


Miracle of Miracles

by bwayfan25



Category: ER (TV 1994)
Genre: Annie Levin, Charlie Lewis - Freeform, Childbirth, Family, Family Feels, Hanukkah, Jewish Character, Kerry and Susan become grandparents, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Set in the matriarchs au, Suzie Lewis - Freeform, minor spoilers for the mandalorian, references to COVID-19, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwayfan25/pseuds/bwayfan25
Summary: Even in darkness, there are moments of light. In a year as dark as 2020, brightness can be hard to come by. Many are left feeling as if there may never be brightness again, and none more so than those who have been working day in and day out in the County General Emergency Department. But on the last night of Hanukkah, things shine bright in the form of not one but two little miracles welcomed into the Weaver-Lewis family.A fic set in the "matriarchs" universe in which a new cycle of matriarchs begins in the dark of winter. Kerry supports Annie through her delivery and in the aftermath as they struggle to maintain their excitement in the face of COVID-19.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	1. Part One: Effacement and Dilation

Being 40 weeks pregnant with twins did not lend itself well to driving, nor did it lend itself well to wiggling in one’s seat as “Dancing Queen” blared through the car speakers, but Annie didn’t care. After all, she’d put up with months of being unable to see her feet, growing amounts of pain in her hips (weird and otherwise), and increasingly  _ un-Kosher _ pregnancy cravings. She felt she deserved to dance in her seat to a 1970s bop. 

It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, but the daylight was fading fast. She’d tried to get out of the hospital earlier, but she’d had to finish the last few mid-year evaluations for the second and third-year surgical residents as well as the one for her intern. 

She’d been intentionally avoiding the latter as she knew it was going to be the worst of them all. Because even taking into account that her standards were higher than past Chief Surgical Residents (and, honestly, most current Attendings), his performance was abysmal. He’d shown little improvement over the nearly six months since his internship began and not for a lack of trying on her part. He simply assumed that he could ride on his accomplished surgeon father’s reputation without having to do the work.

(Annie considered herself above telling him that she had not one but  _ three _ accomplished physicians for parents and that if she ever tried to ride any of their coat tails in place of actually working for things, the most accomplished of her parents would sit her down in her office and ask her point blank what the hell was wrong with her.)

But it was done and over with. Aunt Lizzie, ahem,  _ Dr. Corday _ had officially taken over responsibility of the residents and intern for the next three months, meaning she was free. She was headed home to light the candles for the last night of Hanukkah and usher in her maternity leave. 

_ “You can dance… You can try… Having the time of your life…” _ Annie sang loudly as she stopped at a red light.  _ “Ooh, see that girl…. Watch that scene… Digging the dancing queen.” _

As she went to mime playing the piano along with the music like she was in a regional production of  _ Mamma Mia! _ , her abdomen contracted hard enough to make her let out a groan of pain. 

Turning the music down, she focused on breathing deeply as the muscles tensed painfully. She’d been having Braxton-Hicks contractions for months, so the pain wasn’t necessarily unusual, but that didn’t make it any less pleasant.

“What?” she asked, running a hand over her protruding stomach as the contractions subsided. “You two don’t like ABBA? You know that’s not allowed, right?”

The light turned green ahead of her. Still breathing deeply, she slowly lifted her foot from the brake to continue on towards home. But a shot pain in her backside made her pull off the street and into a McDonald’s parking lot.

Occasional shooting pains down her legs was another thing that she’d been dealing with for months, but thankfully, was mostly a minor inconvenience and a normal side effect of pregnancy that was likely to alleviate once she did not have two humans pressing down on her sciatic nerves. Luckily for her though, she could easily shift weight off of her legs and onto her arms whenever this happened. Except, of course, when she was sitting down. (Or had her hands in someone’s open chest cavity.)

“Okay, fine,” she said, exhaling. “You don’t have to like ABBA. But you  _ do _ have to like Abba. That’s not negotiable.”

Almost as if responding to her words, her abdomen tensed again. It wasn’t a full contraction, but certainly unpleasant nonetheless.

“Okay, okay. I get it,” she said through gritted teeth.”You haven’t met him yet. But still.”

Despite her jokes though (if they were really that), this time, Annie didn’t hesitate. 

“Siri, call Ethan.”

“Calling Ethan,” Siri replied. “Mobile.”

The music stopped and was replaced with the sound of the call ringing out. But when she managed to fish the car out of her bag, disconnect it from the car’s Bluetooth, and raise it to her ear, she was not greeted by her husband’s voice but rather his voicemail recording.

“I’m sorry. [Ethan McDaniels] is not available,” a female voice informed her. “At the tone, please record your message. When you have finished recording, you may hang up or press pound for more options.”

_ Beep. _

“Hey. It’s me. I left work to come home but I’m gonna turn around. I think it’s time,” she said quickly, trying to get the words out before another contraction began. “I’m gonna call Momma. You… You know who to call, yeah? Well, even if you don’t, call whoever you think is right. I’ll keep you… I’ll keep you updated as things, uh… as things move along. And call me back when you get this. Love you. Bye.”

She ended the call with a tap of her screen and then immediately swiped to Favorites and selected the next call. And to her relief, the female voice that greeted her was not a voicemail.

“Hi, honey,” Kerry greeted casually. “What’s going on?”

“Momma, are you still at work?” 

“For a few more minutes. My last Zoom meeting got cancelled, so I’m heading out early,” Kerry replied. “I’m packing up my computer as we speak.”

“Don’t leave yet,” Annie instructed urgently. 

“Why not?”

Before Annie could answer, she felt something wet beneath her. And even if she could see around her stomach to her scrub pants, she didn’t question what it was. 

“My water just broke.” 

“Your water just broke?” Kerry asked, her voice suddenly both excited and panicked. “Where are you? Are you still here?”

“No, I’m down the street,” Annie replied, glancing down the block towards County. “At the… At the McDonald’s. In the parking lot.”

“Do you want me to come get you? Are you contracting?”

“I’m only a block away. I just need to turn around.” Annie leaned back against the seat and took a deep breath. “And, yeah. I’ve had a couple.” 

“How close together?” 

If the gasp of pain Kerry heard through the phone was any indication, they were pretty close together. 

“Uh… Well, it’s been maybe three or four minutes from the last one. And maybe thirty seconds?” Annie said as soon as she caught her breath. “Just enough time to get back to the hospital before the next one.”

“Are you sure? Because I can come get you.”

“And what? Leave my car here?” Annie asked with a touch of her mother’s own incredulousness in her voice. “Momma, ideally, I’m leaving the hospital with two newborns. And unless you bought car seats too, we need my car.”

Kerry clicked her tongue, but nevertheless assured Annie that she would be at the door closest to the accessible parking spots in the parking garage when she arrived. 

But she’d barely opened the car door next to where Kerry was waiting with a wheelchair (and a surgical mask) for her before another pain shot through her abdomen. 

Kerry, though, was ready. As soon as Annie grimaced in pain, she started the timer on her phone.She then stroked Annie’s hair comfortingly until the contraction subsided and hit again. 

“Forty-four seconds,” Kerry announced, sliding the phone back into her pocket and handing Annie the mask. 

“Are you sure?” Annie asked as she put the mask on. “It felt like a  _ year.” _

Once her mask was situated, she held onto the car with one hand and took Kerry’s extended hand in the other. With a heave, their combined effort managed to get Annie into a standing position. But she didn’t stay up for long, and instead almost immediately turned around to sit down in the chair. 

Kerry shut the driver’s side door and crossed around to the passenger’s seat, where she pulled out Annie’s (yellow, sticker-covered) crutches and her (backpack-styled) purse. 

“Can you get the… the bag out of the back seat too?” Annie called out as Kerry made to cross back around towards her. “It’s behind the…. It’s on the passenger’s side. But in the back.”

Kerry nodded and opened the back door on the passenger’s side. The bag in question was a large purple and gray duffel bag emblazoned with a Northwestern University wildcat. Underneath the logo in white embroidery that read  _ A. Levin #2. _ But she knew both by it’s heft and by the careful planning that had seen it packed that it did not contain it’s usual athletic clothes and soccer cleats but rather that which was necessary to bring two new lives into the world. 

Annie let her crutches rest against her shoulder, but her (multiple) baby bump was too big for her to hold the duffel bag on her lap. Instead, she let it rest on her feet while Kerry slung the purse over her shoulder. 

Kerry was about to ask if Annie had called Ethan (or Susan, Suzie, Charlie, Michael, and/or Adam) when Annie’s phone rang from her coat pocket. She could read the contact’s name on the screen as Annie lifted it to her ear. 

“Oh, thank God,” Annie said, sighing in relief. “I was worried you’d left your hearing aids in the other room and hadn’t heard the phone go off…. Really? I was kidding.”

Annie shook her head. 

“ _ Anyway _ \- Ethan.  _ Ethan. _ Relax. Yeah…. Yeah. It’s gonna be okay. I’m back at the hospital. Momma’s taking me upstairs…. No, I haven’t yet. I’ll call them both in a second…. Well, then tell her to stop eavesdropping and slap her if need be.”

But despite the threat (clearly meant for her youngest sister), when the elevator  _ dinged _ to their floor and Kerry turned the wheelchair around to wheel Annie in, she saw Annie’s brow knit in concern.

“We’ll I’ve got my iPad with me. I could probably Facetime with you tomorrow…. Assuming they’re  _ here _ by tomorrow.” Annie paused again. “Well, if nothing goes wrong, then probably Saturday. Sunday at the latest.”

Annie let out a sigh. 

“Yeah…. Yeah. I’ll keep you updated…. I love you, too.”

She heaved another sigh as she hung up the call. Kerry automatically rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. 

“It’s fine,” Annie said, replying to the unspoken question. “We knew it was a possibility. And it just makes more sense, considering between you and Mommy, there’s almost always someone here already. And someone who has already been in the hospital and therefore wouldn’t be at as big of a risk.

“And, I knew if it came down to it, I’d want you in there with me more than I’d want him. But…”

“But he’s still your husband and you want to celebrate the birth of your children with him,” Kerry finished softly as she adjusted Annie’s cloth headband over her hair. “It’s not something you get to do everyday.”

Annie nodded as the elevator  _ dinged _ again. Kerry heaved the chair forward towards the front desk of the Labor and Delivery department. 

The waiting area was empty. The chairs typically full of nervous family members eagerly awaiting news had been replaced by empty silence. 

“Dr. Weaver?” the nurse at the desk asked in confusion as the Chief of Staff drew even with her. “The ER didn’t tell us they were sending any patients up to us…”

“Do I  _ look _ like I just came up from the ER?” she asked with a scoff. “I’m here with my daughter.”

Both she and the nurse glanced at said daughter, who was currently distracted with another contraction. 

“Dr. Levin?” the nurse asked, her tone even more confused. 

“Yes. It’s Dr. Levin.” Kerry rolled her eyes. “Now, for the love of God, will you sign her in before she has my grandchildren right here in the lobby?”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” the nurse said, nodding quickly. “Uh, name and date of birth?”

“Annalise Levin. July 26th, 1990.”

The nurse entered the information into the computer in front of her. 

“And will you be her Designated Visitor, Dr. Weaver?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The nurse tapped a few more keys. “And have you or anyone in your household tested positive for COVID-19 in the last week, been exposed to a positive COVID-19 patient in the last week, or has been in quarantine for exposure to a positive COVID-19 patient?”

The nurse glanced up at Kerry over her computer and found the hospital chief looking at her in exasperation. 

“....Right.” The nurse smiled sheepishly from behind her mask. “Sorry. I have to ask. It’s hospital policy.”

“I am well aware that it’s hospital policy, seeing as I  _ wrote _ the hospital’s policy.”

The nurse nodded quickly just as Annie let out a breath as the contraction subsided. 

“How far apart are they?” the nurse asked her as the younger woman’s shoulders relaxed.

“About three or four minutes?” Annie guessed. “And they’re getting… getting longer.”

The woman finished her entry and then shot out of her chair to find an available room. 

She returned a few minutes later to escort two women to an open room down the hallway. Kerry begrudgingly allowed her to take over pushing Annie in the wheelchair for the sole reason that that was  _ also _ hospital policy and she had to respect the harried nurse for doing her job correctly. 

“You may take off your masks while you’re in here by yourselves, but we ask that you please put them on when our staff come in. And please keep them on when in the hallway and any other shared areas,” the nurse instructed as she parked Annie within the room. “Dr. Levin, who is your OB?”

“Uh, Dr. Roth,” Annie replied. “And, no, I haven’t called him yet.”

“That’s alright,” the nurse assured her. “He’s actually on-call. I just need to go wake him up.”

Annie, who’d tensed again at the realization that she had not yet contacted her obstetrician, relaxed slightly and let out a small, “Thank God.”

Dr. Roth was about Annie’s age, and, like her, had already established himself as one of County’s finest young doctors. He was skilled technically, but also was known for his rapport with patients. Many he’d treated noted that he not only explained the ins and outs of pregnancy and childbirth in patient-friendly ways, but could explain it in such detail that it was almost as if he’d given birth himself. (Which he had. Twice.)

The nurse pulled a fresh hospital gown and pair of hospital socks from a cabinet and put them on the foot of the bed. Annie made to thank her before she ducked out, but couldn’t as another contraction swept through her. 

Kerry rubbed her arm affectionately until it had subsided. Onec Annie let out another deep breath, Kerry sprang into action moving the crutches and bag to the side so she could help Annie stand up and get changed. 

“I don’t think I’ve helped you take a shirt off in fifteen to twenty years,” she said with a chuckle as she stood on her toes to help tug Annie’s t-shirt off over her head. “You were a lot shorter then.”

Annie made to put her arms through the hospital gown to cover herself, but stopped when she saw Kerry shake her head. 

“Take that off, too,” Kerry said, nodding towards Annie’s (strained) bra.

“Really?” Annie asked, glancing down at it.

“Well, I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to,” Kerry said with a shrug. “But do you really want to have to do this while wearing a bra?”

Annie didn’t need further permission or consideration, as she immediately shrugged her arms back out of the gown, took the bra off, and then put her arms back in. Then, she undid the knot of her scrub pants and let them fall to the ground.

“Gross,” she said, grimacing as she stepped out of the wet pants and underwear (and kicked them a bit to the side).

Kerry stepped behind her to start tying the gown closed. At the sight of Annie’s bare behind, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Are you laughing at my butt?” Annie asked, feigning offense. 

“Yes. I am,” Kerry replied as she tied off the last knot. “Well, actually, I’m laughing at something Grandma said about your butt.”

“Something  _ Grandma _ said about my butt?”

“Yep. On the day that  _ you _ were born,” Kerry said as she helped Annie sit down on the bed. “You were transverse and face down. And she said that when they picked you up, when they took you out, the first thing she saw of you was your butt. Which I thought was appropriate, considering that was all you let us see of you on nine months of sonograms.”

Annie smiled as she carefully scooted herself back in the bed and lifted her feet up. Kerry tore open the package of hospital socks and then slid them onto Annie’s feet (making a point to tickle both of them before setting the plastic wrapping aside). 

With Annie gowned and settled into bed, the adrenaline of an experienced emergency physician getting a pregnant patient upstairs and admitted began to fade, giving way to the rising joy and nervousness of a new grandmother-to-be.

“Oh, come  _ on,” _ Annie groaned playfully as Kerry went for a nearby box of tissues. “They aren’t even here yet. You can’t start crying now.”

“Hey, that was  _ not _ part of the agreement,” Kerry said, raising a finger at Annie after dabbing at her eyes. “I’ve respected your wishes. I haven’t bought them anything. We didn’t throw a baby shower - no that we really could have - but still. You can’t keep me from crying.”

Annie chuckled, both at the most stoic and level-headed of her parents beginning to lose it as she grew closer to the birth of her first grandchildren, and also in appreciation of the truth in Kerry’s words.

Jewish superstition had it that one did not prepare any more than what was necessary to welcome a new baby. Likely borne out of a protectiveness in case of miscarriage, it meant there were no baby showers or gifts ahead of time. And though Annie talked to and about ‘the children’ more frequently as she got closer to full term, and even had allowed herself a brief trip to Target to get a few key items around Thanksgiving, she still celebrated the pregnancy a lot less than many other expecting mothers. After all, there would be plenty of time to celebrate once they had been born.

Kerry lowered her mask to blow her nose. But instead of replacing it after doing so (as she had been lecturing every employee, Board member, patient, and Designated Visitor every day for most of the year), she unhooked it from around her ears and set it on the table next to the bed.

“You took your mask off? _ Inside the hospital?” _ Annie asked in awe. “You know that’s not allowed, right?”

Kerry rolled her eyes, but nonetheless smiled.

“I’m going to be doing this all night,” she said with a gesture towards the tissue box. “And besides. If there’s any reason to make an exception, it would be for you.”

Annie immediately pulled her own mask down and grinned broadly. Kerry chuckled and cupped her cheek on her hand before kissing her on the forehead. 

“I’m like the… the Mandalorian,” Kerry said as she straightened up. “Because he only took his helmet off when he was looking for his son, right?It’s the same sort of thing.”

Annie narrowed her eyes in confusion. 

“I thought you said you weren’t watching it…”

“I’m  _ not. _ But I still know what’s happening because you all never shut up about it.”

Annie smiled again but it quickly contorted into a look of deepest pain. She sat forward slightly, her entire body tensed as she fought the urge to push and/or bite her lip until it bled. 

Though Kerry knew Annie’d been in this much pain throughout each of the contractions, without a mask on, her anguish was that much clearer. And, unless Kerry wanted to celebrate the birth of her first grandchild(ren) in full doctor-mode, the only thing she could do was give Annie a hand to squeeze until it died down. 

When Annie finally let out a deep breath and opened her eyes, the first thing she did was put her mask back on. Kerry was about to ask why when she followed Annie’s line of sight to the door and then rushed to do the same. 

The tall, lean form of Dr. Roth stood in the doorway alongside one of the L&D nurses. They were both waiting patiently for the two women to put on their masks before they came any closer. Given their gowns, masks, and face shields, they wouldn’t have looked out of place downstairs in the ER, save for the fact that L&D did not typically require N95 respirators to treat their patients. (Key word: typically)

“I’m going to go call Mommy. And your sister, if Charlie hasn’t already done so,” Kerry told Annie quietly as she rose from the bed. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Annie nodded. 

“I hope you’re not leaving on my account, Dr. Weaver,” Roth said as Kerry stepped closer to the door. 

“I’m just going to make a couple phone calls,” she assured him as they changed places in the room. “I’ll be right here.”

Roth smiled behind his mask before turning to Annie on the bed. In doing so, she could see his trademark pastel blue, pink, and white kippah clipped to his hair. Many of his patients thought he chose to wear it because the colors were reminiscent of the caps that newborn babies got in the hospital, but those who knew  _ knew. _

Once in the hallway, Kerry made a beeline for the phone on the wall. A nurse looked ready to tell her that patients and Designated Visitors were not permitted to use the hospital lines for personal calls, but she put a stop to that with one flash of the badge clipped to her blazer pocket. (Luckily for her, the nurse couldn’t come close enough to question why the photo on said badge had not been updated since the last time someone in their family had a baby nearly twenty-one years ago.)

“Emergency Department,” came Sam Taggart’s voice through the phone. 

“Is Dr. Lewis available?” Kerry asked without hesitation.

“Uh, I think she is, but I want to make sure she didn’t get pulled into the trauma that just came in,” Sam replied as she likely strained to make out Susan from the rest of the gowned and masked ER staff. “Gimme a sec.”

There was the sound of the phone being set down and then just ambient background noise for a moment before a familiar (and comforting) voice greeted her with an exhausted, “Susan Lewis.”

“Hey. It’s me.”

“You’re still here?” Susan asked in confusion. “I thought you said you were leaving early.”

“I was. But just as I was getting ready to go, Annie called to tell me her water broke.”

“It  _ did?”  _ she said, clearly lighting up at the news. “Did she come back? Is she upstairs?”

“Yes, she came back. Apparently she only got a little ways down the street, so she turned around and I brought her upstairs. Ezra Roth is looking at her right now.”

“Oh, that’s  _ great,” _ Susan said brightly before letting out an unmistakable scoff. “Dammit. Why’d you tell me  _ now? _ I’m not going to be able to focus on any work.”

Kerry rolled her eyes out of instinct (which also happened to tell her that was Susan’s exact intention). 

“I’m on all night,” Susan continued after giving Kerry her eye roll pause. “Do you think I can come up at some point? Maybe once they’re here?”

“Maybe. They’re only letting in one visitor per patient though. And as glad as I am that they’re taking the policies seriously, it’s also a pain,” Kerry said with uncertainty clear in her voice. “But I guess if you just pretend you’re coming to visit a patient, it should be fine.”

She could hear Susan sigh and, like witnessing Annie’s pain at the contractions or hearing the disappointed resignation in her voice that Ethan would not be able to attend the birth of their children, Kerry felt her heart twinge in pain. 

“I’ll keep you updated,” she assured with a sigh of her own. “And if I don’t catch you, I’ll just leave a message at the desk, okay?”

“Good thinking,” Susan said a bit bitterly. “I can’t promise I’ll be readily available to answer. You know. Because we’re fucked.”

“I know,” Kerry said, closing her eyes. “But at least you get to get vaccinated on Tuesday. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Though we could have gotten the vaccine shipment sooner if  _ someone _ hadn’t bothered the department of health to the point where they’re screening their calls,” Susan said flatly. “But even as great as that is, this is better.”

The remark warmed her more than the earlier sadness brought her down, both in the excitement that came with the transition from mothers to  _ grand _ mothers and also because Kerry knew that, somewhere, Mildred Weaver was watching their transition with (self-satisfied yet) loving pride. 

“I’ve gotta go,” Susan said as the sound of sirens grew louder on her end. “Keep me posted.”

“I will,” Kerry said, nodding even though Susan was not there to see it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hung the hospital phone back up on the receiver and then pulled her own phone from her pants pocket. 

She held her thumb to the home button and then clicked the phone icon. She swiped to the left towards Favorites and then selected Suzie (or as she was listed in Annie’s phone ‘Bitch #2’) from the list before raising it to her ear.

“Do I have niblings?!” Suzie asked excitedly as soon as she answered. 

“Do you have  _ what?” _

“Niblings,” Suzie repeated. “Remember? That’s the gender-neutral word for niece or nephew that Charlie found that we’ve been using.”

“Now that you say that, I do vaguely remember that,” Kerry said, nodding before narrowing her eyes. “Wait, didn’t Annie tell you to  _ stop _ calling them that because it made it sound like you wanted to eat her unborn children?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean we  _ did.” _

“Of course,” Kerry replied, shaking her head. “Alright. Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Yep. Charlie called me,” Suzie informed her. “She was talking so fast I couldn’t really understand her, but I got the gist. Which is to say either Annie was going to have the babies or she got bitten by a squirrel on her run and had contracted rabies.”

Before Kerry could respond (if she knew how), she saw anesthesiologist Dr. Antonio Harmon, a short Black man with a buzz cut, walk into Annie’s room.

“I think Annie’s about to get her epidural,” Kerry thought aloud. “I should go in there.”

“Yeah, probably,” Suzie agreed. “Wish Annie good luck for me. And text me when there are babieeeeeeees.”

Kerry told her she would (and that she loved her) before slipping the phone back into her pocket and following Dr. Harmon into the room.

She found him already on the opposite side of the bed, already at work sterilizing Annie’s lower back in preparation to numb her. An IV was taped down on the back of Annie’s left hand and she’d received a hospital bracelet along with two additional color-coded bracelets - a red one that indicated an allergy and a blue one indicating she needed Kosher meals. 

“You mean to tell me you’re a surgeon that’s allergic to iodine?” Harmon asked Annie in stunned shock. “How have you not gone into anaphylactic shock in the middle of the OR?”

“Because I never touch it,” Annie said with a shrug. “And, so far as I know, I just get hives. I don’t think I get anaphylaxis.”

“Thank God for chloroxylenol 3% then, am I right?”

Annie nodded as Harmon set aside his swab of the non-iodine skin prep agent and then picked up the prepared syringe of lidocaine and fentanyl. 

Naturally, Kerry crossed towards the bed, pausing near the wall so she remained far enough away to be safe while still being able to watch his administering the anesthetic. But it was her watching that made Annie suddenly nervous.

“Don’t make that face,” she said in a worried tone. “You’ve done stuff like this before, haven’t you? And you’ve had it done  _ to _ you before.”

“I know, I know,” Kerry said quickly, waving her away. “It’s just… It hits different when it’s one of you girls or Susan.”

Annie’s brow furrowed.

“It hits different?” she repeated in a tone as confused as her expression.

“What? Did I not use that right?” Kerry asked as her own brow furrowed. 

“No, you did,” Annie assured her. “That’s what’s weird about it.”

Harmon snickered at the mother and daughter’s exchange. Or he did until said snickering drew the Chief of Staff’s attention back to his performance. 

Kerry stepped slightly to her right, observing the physician closely. 

“What’s this on your back say?” Harmon asked as he slowly depressed the syringe.

“What does what say?” Annie asked, turning her head slightly towards him. 

“Your ink,” he replied, nodding towards the Hebrew on the back of Annie’s right shoulder. 

“Oh. Sorry. I always forget that one’s there because I can’t see it,” Annie said with a slight nod. “It’s one of the Ten Commandments. It says, ‘Honor thy fathers and mothers.’”

Harmon frowned behind his mask.

“Plural?”

“Plural.”

Harmon considered it for a moment and then shrugged in acknowledgement as he slowly pulled the syringe out, leaving the epidural catheter behind.

“Alrighty,” he said as he discarded the used syringe in a nearby sharps container. “You should start feeling it in about fifteen to twenty minutes. I’ll be back to check on you then and see if we need to make any adjustments.”

Annie nodded and let the hospital gown she’d been holding up fall back down. 

As Dr. Harmon ducked out, Kerry helped Annie shift (carefully) onto her right side. Annie took one of the pillows from beneath her head and tucked it between her knees so better support her hips.

“What did Dr. Roth say?” Kerry asked as she pulled a chair up to the right side of the bed. “You must be moving along if he’s okay with you getting an epidural already.”

Annie nodded.

“I think he said I was… six centimeters?” 

_ “Six _ centimeters?” Kerry repeated in surprise. “Already?”

Annie shrugged against the pillow. 

“I’m just repeating what he said,” she said, raising her left hand defensively. 

“Did he say anything else?” Kerry asked, fighting the urge to look at Annie’s chart. 

“He said things sound good and that they don’t appear to be in distress. He said he’ll be back in in about an hour to see how things are progressing. Sooner if he needs to be.”

“So, now, we wait.”

“So, now, we wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy final night of Hanukkah! I am taking a break from continuing the original fiction project I started during NaNoWriMo to bring a little levity and lightness to the end of a really fucking terrible year. 
> 
> As hinted at in the final line of ["matriarchs"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111415) (and in numerous tumblr one-shots and artwork as well), Annie Levin, now thirty and following in her mothers' footsteps as the Chief (Surgical) Resident at County, is pregnant with twins. And because I have very detailed and elaborate headcanons, am very emotional about and sorely missing my family this holiday season, and have never read a fanfiction in which Kerry Weaver becomes a grandmother, I decided to indulge myself and write this out. 
> 
> It should not be surprising that this is going to focus primarily on mothers and daughters and grandmothers and sisters, because that's what "matriarchs" is about. But though this still technically counts as fanfiction, it's essentially original fiction at this point. And, sidenote, I cannot tell you how much writing this makes me want to revist my _ER: Next Gen_ idea where I just create original _ER_ content set in the present day with old characters as well as a lot of new ones. 
> 
> This is a happy fic, but it's also bittersweet, just as much as the good that has come this year has been. And, as my writing is nothing if not heartfelt and cathartic, I wanted to work out some of those feelings through my words. Hopefully, you will a bit too. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Until next time.


	2. Part Two: Transition

_Mildred cocked her head slightly in question at the look on Kerry’s face. Kerry lay on her right side in front of her, hands tucked under her head and her expression hard as the anesthesiologist inserted the epidural catheter into her lower back._

_“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly as she rubbed a hand up and down Kerry’s arm._

_“The needle is fine. It’s everything_ else _that hurts,” Kerry hissed before almost immediately looking apologetic. “Sorry.”_

 _Mildred just patted her arm gently. She then stood up to peek over Kerry to see what it was exactly they were doing. But as soon as she did so, she blinked several times and shook her head before sitting back down, muttering,“Good Lord, what did I do_ that _for?”_

_As she resumed stroking Kerry’s arm, she saw her daughter glance up at her, the apologetic expression on her face now one of deepest fear._

_“What if I can’t do this?”_

_Mildred frowned._

_“I thought you didn’t have to do anything,” she said, her brow furrowing. “They aren’t going to make you push, are they?”_

_Kerry shook her head._

_“What if I’m not cut out for this?”_

_Mildred let out a deep sigh before leaning forward in her chair and cupping Kerry’s chin in her hand._

_“There are many people in this world that are not cut out to be parents,” Mildred said softly. “I don’t list you among them. And neither should you.”_

_She rubbed her thumb over Kerry’s cheek and smiled her characteristic smile of loving pride._

_“You’re going to make a magnificent mother, my love. And you know I wouldn’t tell you that unless I meant it.” Mildred leaned further and kissed Kerry on the forehead. “You are going to make a magnificent mother to a happy, healthy baby that is just as beautiful and wonderful as you are. I don’t doubt that for a second.”_

Kerry had questioned the last promise of that conversation off and on for years. But even when that doubt loomed large above her in the moments following disagreements or arguments or painful and stinging accusations of shame, it never fully took over. She could never fully believe that her mother doubted that she could be or _was_ a good mother. It only ever seemed to make her think there was room for improvement upon something that was already there. 

The proof was in front of her, after all. Well, _some_ of the proof, at least. The other proof was elsewhere, waiting at their respective homes for news of their niblings’ arrival, and probably texting the (original) proof in the meantime. 

“What are you looking at?” Annie asked, glancing up from her phone to see the look on Kerry’s face.

“Just you,” Kerry said, smiling her own smile of loving pride. “And thinking about how much I love you.”

“Oh. Well, now I feel bad,” Annie said a bit sheepishly. “Because that was way better of an answer than I expected.”

“Why? What are _you_ looking at?”

“Tik Toks. Charlie’s sent me like fourteen of them,” Annie replied, turning her phone around to show Kerry the long list of messages containing videos. “Here. Look at this one.”

She tapped the screen and then held it out to Kerry, who took it and then held it out at arm’s length to watch it. But when the Tik Tok finished and she handed it back to Annie, she caught sight of the contact name and rolled her eyes. 

“Really? ‘Bitch #3?’”

“What?” Annie asked innocently. “It’s a term of endearment.”

“Does that make Suzie ‘Bitch #2?’”

“Yeah. No matter _what_ she says,” Annie said firmly. “I was not put on this Earth first to be ‘Bitch #2.’”

“Well, so long as _I_ am not ‘Bitch #1,’ then it’s fine.”

“Oh, no. You’re ‘Bitch Alef,’” Annie informed her seriously. “Not in my phone, but that’s your title. Which makes Mommy ‘Bitch Beit.”

Kerry gave her a look of annoyance, but Annie could see the glint of amusement in her eye. 

“Why not just use ‘Alpha’ and ‘Beta?’”

“Because I like Hebrew better. But more so because the Internet ruined those words, so I do my best never to use them in any capacity if I can avoid it,” Annie informed her seriously. “And, no, I’m not going to tell you what it means because you don’t need to suffer like that…. And, also, _I_ would suffer if I had to tell you.”

Kerry chuckled at the look of sincerity on Annie’s face. 

“You don’t seem as nervous as I thought you would be,” she remarked as Annie shifted slightly in the bed. 

“I’m not nervous,” Annie said with a shrug. But, then, she frowned. “Why? _Should_ I be nervous?”

“No, no….” Kerry paused to consider. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

“Well, I am a little bit,” Annie acknowledged. “But I’m mostly excited.”

But then, to Kerry’s surprise (and concern), Annie let out a heavy sigh. 

“Actually no,” she corrected herself. “I’m mostly _guilty.”_

“Guilty?” Kerry asked, frowning in concern. “What do you have to be guilty about?”

Annie squeezed her eyes shut. 

“I just feel guilty because I’ve spent so much of this year wishing that I could just skip it. Wishing it was the future when we’re past all this.”

“Annie, honey, you don’t have to feel guilty about that,” Kerry told her sincerely. “We _all_ feel like that.”

“No, it’s just…”

Annie inhaled deeply and then carefully adjusted herself so she was sitting up more. 

“I feel guilty because… because I keep saying I want 2020 to be over and that everything is terrible, but it’s not. _They’re_ not. And I feel guilty when I wish 2020 away, because part of me feels like I’m wishing them away, too. And I’m _not._ They’re….” Annie took a deep breath. “They’re the best thing that’s happened this year…. Closely followed by Biden winning the election.”

Even with the added levity of the joke, the subtle emotion rising in Annie’s voice and the absent-yet-tender way she brushed her hand over her stomach nearly made Kerry reach for the tissues again. But even if her resolve managed to keep her composure through that, what Annie said next nearly toppled it. 

“This is one of the holiest things I’m ever going to do in my life, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

Annie inhaled deeply through her nose.

“It’s like you said earlier about the baby shower. Even if I had wanted one before they were born, we couldn’t have had it,” she lamented. “I haven’t seen Daddy or Abba or Suzie in-person in almost a _year._ And it could very well _be_ a year before I get to see them again. Or longer, if everything keeps going the way it has been.

“Even on Yom Kippur. It would have been one thing if I couldn’t fast because I was pregnant, but I couldn’t fast because I was pregnant _and_ I couldn’t even go to temple for Yom Kippur service. And, yeah, we did something from home like we have done all year, but… but it wasn’t the same.”

Annie shook her head. 

“This was supposed to be a year of celebration. Of… of getting excited and sharing this wonderful news and bringing new lives into the world, but I just feel… selfish. I mean, it’s good for us, but it doesn’t change the fact that three hundred thousand people lives in the US have been lost in the time it’s taken to add two more.

“And I just know that someday they’re going to ask, ‘Momma, what was it like when we were in your belly?’ What am I going to tell them? ‘The entire world was shit, but you weren’t?’”

“I think a better answer would be, ‘The world couldn’t be shit, _because_ of you,” Kerry added softly.

It was her turn to heave a deep sigh. 

“There’s a reason I never told you much when you asked me that question. And that reason is what you’re feeling right now,” she admitted quietly. “I felt that sort of thing when I was pregnant with you. You were the one good thing out of a bunch of things that… that weren’t very good.”

Annie looked at her curiously, leading her to continue.

“Grandma always called you my unexpected blessing for a reason. To remind me that miracles are rarely ever predictable. But I’ll admit that I felt… a bit embarrassed at first. To be pregnant. Like I’d let my guard down. 

“And I was in my second year - well, my first _attempt_ at a second year - so I was just off my internship and trying to establish myself in my career. But then the nurses would catch me puking in the bathroom or I’d have to step out of a trauma because you insisted I had to pee at exactly that moment _or else_. And I didn’t want to find out what ‘or else’ meant.”

Annie chuckled slightly. Kerry smiled back and then scooted her chair closer to the bed so she could take Annie’s hand. 

“I felt the worst, though, when I’d go to the doctor. They’d tell me how much you were growing and my first thought wasn’t about how exciting that was, but instead how much more it was going to hurt the bigger you got.”

“I feel that,” Annie remarked with a knowing nod. 

Kerry’s brow rose. 

“You probably feel _twice_ that.”

Annie smiled, enjoying the way Kerry rubbed circles on the back of her hand with her thumb. 

“But even through all that,” Kerry said in a voice barely more than a whisper, “even as miserable as I was, you were never part of that misery. You were the reprieve from it. The light at the end of the tunnel, always there. Even when the light seemed dim and the tunnel felt like it would never end. 

“You were real. Every time I felt you move, I was reminded that I was going to get to meet you and hold you and love you.”

Kerry released Annie’s hand to cup her cheek for a moment before her growing tears forced her to sit up and grab another tissue.

“You know, of all the parenting advice I’ve ever received,” she said rested her glasses on top of her head so she could dab at her eyes, “or even any of the parenting advice I’ve ever _given,_ one thing I don’t think we never seem to talk about in the mama guilt.”

“How do you get rid of the mama guilt?” Annie asked, her brow furrowing. 

“Hell if I know,” Kerry said with a scoffing chuckle. “If you figure it out, please tell me.”

But the look of continued concern on Annie’s face drew Kerry up out of her chair and around to the open spot on the opposite side of the bed. She paused as Annie carefully turned over onto her back and raised the bed so it was at a comfortable angle for her to sit back. Then, Kerry stepped out of her shoes and then settled on the bed next to Annie.

She wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulder and then pulled Annie’s head towards her to kiss her on the forehead. As Annie lifted her head back up, Kerry brushed her cheek with her thumb, unable to help but admire how the baby girl she had held in her arms what felt like only yesterday had grown into a beautiful young woman ready to welcome babies of her own. 

“If I’m being honest with you, honey, there is always going to be mama guilt. You can’t avoid it,” Kerry confided in a low voice. “And some of it lingers, but a good deal of it goes away once you see that everything worked out anyways.”

She lowered her hand from where she stroked Annie’s cheek to take Annie’s hand once more. 

“It’s not selfish to celebrate this, my love. Even if we can’t celebrate it the way we would any other year, it’s still worth celebrating. Especially because it gives so many people who love you something to celebrate too.” Kerry squeezed Annie’s hand tight. “Soon, things will start turning around and, before you know it, they’ll be toddlers that you have to physically restrain from trying to drink the honey on Rosh Hashanah.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. 

“That’s _way_ too specific of an example for you to have just made that up off the top of your head.”

“We never told you that story?” Kerry asked, her brow rising in surprise. “Oh. yeah. You’d never had honey before and you lost your damn mind. Spent the entire night trying to climb onto the table and stick your hand in the bowl everyone was dipping your apples in. But we were not the only guests there.

“Grandpa and Zayda both thought it was cute, but Bubbe and Grandma did _not._ Next time you have the chance, ask your father about our trip to Minnesota in 1991. He’ll know what I’m talking about.”

Annie smiled and then shifted herself slightly so she could lean her head on Kerry’s shoulder. 

“I’ve been thinking about Grandma a lot lately,” she thought aloud

“You have?” Kerry asked, unable to control the way the question caught slightly in her throat. 

Annie nodded as she ran her hand back and forth over her protruding (and blissfully numb) stomach.

“Daddy was talking about her when I called him a couple weeks ago. He was telling me about something that happened when _you_ were pregnant. 

“He said it was maybe two weeks or so after you had to go on bedrest and he was really starting to feel it. He said he was still working because he didn’t want to take time off until I was born, but between that and taking care of you, it was like he was working two full-time jobs. And he said it wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to take care of you, but, you know, caregiver fatigue is real. But he didn’t know what to do because he knew that you wouldn’t accept any outside help. 

“And he said that one day, he kind of went on autopilot and ended up at temple. And it was Rabbi... Leo back then, I think? And Daddy said he sat down with Rabbi Leo and told him what was going on, and Rabbi Leo asked him if he’d said your name when they were praying _Mi Shebeirach_ during Shabbat service. Daddy said he had and that your name was Kerry. But he said that when he told him that, he automatically added, ‘bat Mildred,’ meaning, ‘Kerry, daughter of Mildred,’ because of the belief that healing comes from the mother. 

“Rabbi Leo paused and then said, ‘Well, this Mildred, is she still alive?’ and Daddy said yes. And then Rabbi asked, ‘And do she and your wife get along?’ and Daddy said that, yes, you did. And Daddy said Rabbi Leo just shrugged and said, ‘There you go. Call her mother.’

“And Daddy said he immediately found a pay phone and called Grandma. And since he didn’t know exactly how much you had told her, he started from the beginning and told her everything. And she listened and when he was finished, he said she said, ‘Thank you for letting me know, dear. I’ll handle it.’ And then she hung up the phone. Which made Daddy _very_ confused. Because it wasn’t unusual for Grandma to take stuff over, but normally she explained what she was going to do and she hadn’t. 

“But he said that later that night, at like one or two o’clock in the morning, there was a knock on the door. Daddy got up to answer it and there was Grandma and Grandpa, standing on the porch with these huge suitcases. And since it was the middle of the night, Daddy was really tired and really confused, so he asked why they were there. And apparently Grandma said-”

“‘I _told_ you I would _handle_ it,’” Kerry finished. 

At the (highly accurate) Mildred Weaver impression, Annie grinned broadly.

“He said she walked in and dropped her stuff on the living room floor and then walked straight back to your bedroom. He and Grandpa followed her and watched from the hallway as Grandma crawled into bed next to you. And he said that she went to spoon you and you tried to shrug her off because you thought she was him.”

Kerry chuckled and nodded. 

“I did. I think I said something along the lines of, ‘Michael, I’m not in the mood,’” Kerry recalled. “To which Grandma replied, ‘Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not Michael.’”

Annie lifted her head from Kerry’s shoulder to look at her. She was still smiling, but it was a bit more subdued.

“And that was it,” Annie said with a small shrug. “She and Grandpa moved in to take care of you while Daddy was at work until I was born and for a little while after. And Daddy said he remembered feeling like he was seeing the healing of the mother at work while they were there.

“Now, personally, I think of it now as the healing of the _parent..._ but I also know that there’s a reason I understand God to be a Mother.”

Kerry felt emotion rise in her chest again (no doubt the other members were going to take bets on how often it would occur that night) as she pulled Annie into her arms and nuzzled her face into her neck. 

“But a Mother with a relationship to gender far more complex than male or female, right?” Kerry asked as she kissed Annie on the cheek. 

“Yes. Exactly.”

Kerry let out a water chuckle and then kissed her again. But as pulled away, she noticed Annie’s expression change from a smile to a look of concern. 

Her hands were no longer moving absently across her stomach, but had settled on the sides, as if she was feeling for movement. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Kerry asked, sitting up. “Are you in pain? Is the epidural not working?” 

“Oh, no. It’s working,” Annie said though she was still focused on her stomach. “It’s just…. I told them I didn’t want it totally numbed so that I could feel the movement, and I just _felt_ it. It was like… like one of them just shifted downwards. Like jolted forward really hard.”

She’d barely finished describing the feeling before Kerry was off the bed and slipping her shoes back on. 

She crossed around to the edge of the bed and pulled the stirrups back up. 

“Come on. Put your feet up,” she said, waving Annie forward. “Let me check your dilation.”

“Why don’t you just go get Dr. Roth?” Annie asked (though she nevertheless put her feet up as instructed). “He’s probably coming back around soon to check on me anyways.”

“I’ll go get him once I’ve checked,” Kerry assured her as she slipped her mask back on and then grabbed a pair of gloves from a box nearby.

Annie rolled her eyes as Kerry threw back the thin sheet Annie had over her legs. 

“How much did he say you were dilated when he last checked?” Kerry said after a moment. “Six centimeters?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, you should be dilating about a centimeter per hour,” Kerry told her. “But it doesn’t feel like you’re at seven centimeters. It feels closer to eight. Maybe eight and a half.”

Kerry straightened up and tossed the gloves away. Even with her mask back on, Annie could read the concern on her face. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked, confused. “I mean, we’re aiming for ten, right? Doesn’t that mean we’re moving in the right direction.”

“Yes, but that seems awfully fast. Especially since you haven’t done this before,” Kerry said as she started for the door. “I want to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”

As she stepped out into the hallway, Kerry missed the way Annie rolled her eyes as she sat back up in the bed. And, her doctor brain rapidly flipping through her knowledge of obstetrics, she almost missed the man approaching the room from the opposite direction. 

“Hello, Dr. Weaver,” Dr. Roth greeted as he stepped out of her way before they could collide. “Is something wrong?”

“When you checked Annie’s dilation last time, you said she was at six centimeters,” Kerry explained with hesitation. “But I just checked again because she said she felt some sort of forward motion, and she felt like she was closer to eight centimeters, if not more. 

“But the average rate for dilation is a centimeter per hour, is it not? I mean, this is her first pregnancy _and_ it’s a multiple pregnancy. From the literature on multiple pregnancies I’ve read, evidence suggests that labor for multiples is often _longer_ than for single pregnancies. Could a rapid increase in dilation like that be a sign of some sort of problem?”

If Roth was bothered at all by the Chief of Staff (who was distinctly _not_ certified by the American Board of Obstetrics and Gynecology) swooping in to check on one of his patients, he did well not to show it. Instead, he just took a moment to consider her words before offering a response.

“I will be sure to check that there aren’t any problems,” he reassured. “And yes, you are correct that some evidence suggests that multiple labor can last longer for some people. But there is also evidence that suggests that it can actually be _faster_ in some cases. 

“I also will remind you - and I’m guilty of this too - that we sometimes tend to think of the length of labor as starting when the patient arrives at the hospital, but we know that’s not true. If Annie had only been in labor for a couple hours, then perhaps dilating that quickly could signal a problem, but Annie hasn’t been in labor for a couple hours. She’s been in labor for a couple _days._ And that feeling of one of them moving forward was probably just one of them moving into final position in the birth canal.”

Roth’s hands rose in an assuring gesture.

“And, as I said, I’m going in there right now to check on her, and I will obviously make sure that there is no cause for concern. But, without going into too much detail, given Annie’s pregnancy so far, I would not jump to negative conclusions. If anything, I would conclude she’s just very lucky.”

Though it was hidden by her mask, Kerry’s cheeks turned a bit pink. 

She knew that. (Well, _most_ of that at least.)

Annie hadn’t had any issues with her pregnancy so far. The babies were above average in size and weight, were active with strong fetal heart tones, and Annie’s blood pressure had been normal throughout the pregnancy. 

This wasn’t a pregnancy she saw in the ER with a pregnant patient dilated to 8 cm and 75% effaced several weeks too early, or even 10 cm and _completely_ effaced and ready to give birth right then and there. This was a healthy, full-term mother whose body was progressing the way it was supposed to. 

Roth seemed to sense this as he just chuckled. 

“Yours is a natural reaction to your child having a baby, Dr. Weaver,” he told her in a warm, soothing tone. “And, I must say that it’s comforting to know that even a hospital CEO with thirty plus years of medical experience can get just as nervous as any other first-time grandparent. At the very least, it bodes well for the rest of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay. I _promise_ there will be babies in the next chapter. But when I was thinking through things, I wanted a little bit more mother-daughter stuff before we get into (the next round) of mother-daughter-granddaughter stuff. Also, in the tags I put on tumblr for Part One, I mentioned that writing this makes me cry and I promise that is coming too, in both Parts Three and Four. 
> 
> One thing that I don't think I did much in "matriarchs" was talk about that which happened in the five years between Annie's birth and when we meet her pre-Kindergarten/pre-Kerry-becoming-the-Chief-President. We get a touch of that when she tells Susan about Annie's hip, and there's a little bit sprinkled in throughout things, but I felt like there needed to be a bit more. I feel like she'd definitely be thinking about her own pregnancy and giving birth to Annie, and, of course, about _her_ mother being there for her. The little memory at the begining of this chapter wasn't part of my original plan, but it came to me and I couldn't not use it. Mildred is a big part of this story too, after all. Even though she's not here, she's here. 
> 
> Hopefully you're enjoying! The last chapter was a lot of set-up and this chapter was a lot of dialogue, but we'll get into some more action in the next chapter. And, I can't emphasize enough, the crying. But it's happy crying, because there has been so little to happy cry about this year. We need to end on a high note. 
> 
> Have a good rest of your night! Until next time.


	3. Part Three: Delivery

Kerry’s estimate had been correct. Annie _had_ progressed from six centimeters to eight centimeters in a matter of about an hour and a half. But that meant there was still at least an hour and a half to go before she was ready to push. 

Dr. Harmon was paged back into to adjust the epidural as the contractions continued to get stronger. Annie wanted to be able to feel them enough so that she knew when they were getting close to go-time, but she didn’t want them to _hurt._

Still, even with the anesthesia dulling the pain, the intensifying contractions drew Annie’s attention away from conversation and more towards focusing on the impending childbirth.

Kerry just sat in the chair next to her, holding her hand or dabbing at her head with a cool cloth, murmuring reassurances and words of love every time the contractions made Annie draw in breath.

The lake down below glittered with the reflections of the buildings lit up against the dark. In the moments where she could relax enough to catch a glimpse of the, she was reminded of stars and all the loved ones long gone twinkling at her from the heavens as they guided her through this moment of blessing. 

It hadn’t felt like an hour had passed before the room started to flutter with action. 

Nurses began rolling in baby warmers and bassinets (plural) and started preparing rolling tables with sterile instruments alongside newborn baby hats and blankets. Doctors Roth and Harmon were in and out as they went over preparation measures, and there was someone on stand-by in Pedes ready to check on the newborn. (The rotation likely would have resulted in either Dr. Del Amico or Dr. Finch from the Pedes Trauma Center had the PTC not been transformed into the unofficial Emergency Department for Anything That is NOT COVID-19.)

“Before it’s time,” Kerry began hesitantly as she and Annie were left alone once again. “....Are you going to have them check?”

Annie gave her a look of exasperation from behind her mask. 

“What do you take me for, Momma?” she asked seriously. _“Yes,_ Dr. Roth has already put in the chart that hips and hearing are the first things to be checked. And once he has the results, he puts them in an envelope and we take it to a baker who will make two cakes. And we’ll find out the results when we cut into them at the ‘Hearing Aids or Hip Harnesses?’ reveal party.”

“Annalise, I’m serious.” 

Annie took some pleasure in the frustration in Kerry’s voice, but in this moment, knew not to push it. 

“Of course we’re going to check,” she assured her. “That way, if we need to intervene, we can do so as early as possible.”

“Are you…” Kerry inhaled deeply, knowing how the question was going to sound but needing to ask it anyways. “Are you worried at all about that?”

Annie let out a small sigh, but nevertheless shrugged. 

“My only worry is if they can’t hear _and_ have weird hips that are too weird to be treated. Or, God forbid, they get treated but there’s another buttface surgeon - _WAIT.”_

The sudden exclamation made Kerry jump in her seat. She was ready to run for Dr. Roth, thinking one of the babies was suddenly crowning, but Annie didn’t look pained but rather gleeful.

“What? What’s wrong?” Kerry asked quickly.

“You always called the surgeon a buttface,” Annie said slowly, raising a finger at Kerry. “But you were probably thinking ‘shithead,’ weren’t you? You just couldn’t say that in front of me because I was a kid.”

Kerry blinked. 

“I… I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I mean… _probably._ I certainly thought a lot of things about him I couldn’t say in front of you.”

Annie exhaled in satisfaction and lowered her finger. 

“Sorry. That was just a much bigger revelation than I thought it would be,” she said with a little shake of her head. _“Anyways._ I just meant that if they couldn’t hear _and_ had a weird hip, that it would be hard. 

“Because, you know, Ethan hears fine when he has his hearing aids in, but when he doesn’t - or he just prefers to sign as he’s talking - it’s hard for me to respond. Because we’ve been together for fifteen years and I _still_ have to regularly remind him that we cannot sign and walk at the same time unless he wants to stop every few feet so I can reply.”

Kerry nodded, but she felt 

“And also I’ve met a lot of his Deaf friends and, you know, to them, being Deaf is culture and ASL is a language. Which I wholeheartedly agree with, but there’s a couple of them who are really staunchly against being called disabled. Which is fine. They’ve got their own community and the identity that works for them. But then ADA Annie comes in, calling herself disabled and wanting to talk about it, and they all shy away. Ethan doesn’t, of course, but I still wouldn’t want our kids to feel like they couldn’t be Deaf _and_ disabled and proud of both of their identities.”

Kerry nodded again but then her brow knitted in frustration.

“Are there people that call you ADA Annie?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, _I_ call me ADA Annie,” Annie told her, raising a hand to keep her mother in her seat before said mother could jump out of her seat and beat someone up. “Though I’m sure there are some people who call me that behind my back, too. Like ‘Well, we can’t do that because we’ll piss off ADA Annie,’ sort of way. But that doesn’t bother me because, if they’re saying that, it means they _know_ what they’re doing is wrong and ADA Annie is going to kick their ass for it.”

Kerry nodded in understanding. 

“I see. So long as you’re okay with it. Because I was going to say if other people were calling you that that was _incredibly_ inappropriate.”

“Yeah,” Annie said with a shrug of acknowledgement. “But I mean, it shouldn’t be a surprise either way. Especially since you _made_ me ADA Annie.”

“That’s true. I did,” Kerry said with her own shrug of acknowledgement. “It’s still strange to me sometimes that people don’t understand _why_ I know so much about disability activism. Some of them who know you think I got passionate about it because of you - and I certainly got _more_ passionate about it because of you - but they don’t realize I knew it for myself. Because to them, I’m just a very vocal ally. Which is technically true, but it doesn’t feel like that in my head. I mean, I’m not disabled anymore, but there’s still a big part of me that still thinks I am. 

“I still think you are,” Annie said simply. “You don’t use a crutch anymore, but you still have a prosthetic hip. Which you have because the original did not function like it was supposed to. And sometimes you forget it’s made out of metal and buzz at airports.”

 _“Once,”_ Kerry said, holding up a finger. “That happened _once.”_

“Yeah. But TSA is forever.”

Kerry rolled her eyes, which made Annie grin. But only for a moment as she felt one of the strongest contractions yet through the anesthesia. 

“I think it’s time,” she remarked as she slowly exhaled deeply. “When I’m at 10 cm, I’m supposed to feel like I have to push, right?”

“Yes, but _don’t,”_ Kerry said, raising a hand to stop her as she stood up. “Let me get Dr. Roth first.”

Annie nodded, though fighting the overwhelming urge to push was far more difficult than it sounded. Luckily for her, it didn’t take long for Dr. Roth, gowned and ready to go, appeared at the bed. 

“Dr. Weaver said you feel ready to push,” he said as he pulled on a pair of gloves to check her dilation. “And… yep. Feels like you’re about there. I can feel one of their heads already.”

As he changed his gloves, he called out for the nurses, who ran in to assist. Kerry pushed her chair away from the bed and stepped right up next to the bed, taking Annie’s hand in hers. 

“Now, Annie, like we discussed,” Roth instructed as he took a set on a stool. “Breathe in as you feel it starting and then breathe out as you push. The contraction will tell you when and how long.”

“You’re not timing her?” Kerry asked in confusion. 

“You didn’t come across _that_ in your lit review, Dr. Weaver?” Roth asked jovially. “Timing works for some people, but the contractions are the body’s signals for when to go. The body and the baby know what to do. I’m mostly just here to make sure nothing goes south.”

He’d barely finished explaining when they both heard Annie suck in air. 

“It’s coming. It’s coming,” she said quickly.

“Alright. Deep breath in,” Roth instructed in a calm voice. 

Annie squeezed Kerry’s hand hard in one hand while gripping the side of the bed in the other. As the contraction grew, she let out a long grunt as she pushed. 

“Good. Very good,” Roth said encouragingly. “Now make sure to breathe before the next one.”

Annie nodded, though it took all of Annie’s might not to collapse back against the bed. 

“You’ve got this, honey,” Kerry murmured as she brushed a stray hair behind Annie’s ear. “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

Annie took a deep breath as she felt the next contraction begin. As she pushed again, she let out another even longer grunt of exertion until it peaked. 

She repeated this three more times, each time earning her more positive coaching from Roth and murmured encouragement from Kerry.

“Excellent! I’m already starting to see the head,” Roth said from his stool. “On this next one, I want you to give it 70%.”

 _“You mean I could have been doing less than 100% this whole time?”_ Annie exclaimed in frustration. 

“Oh, that wasn’t your 100%. You can give more than that,” Rorth said with a chuckle. “Or if you thought it was 100%, it’s now 50%. Increase it to 70%.”

Annie let out an angry grunt independent of a contraction, but as the next one started, she took a deep breath and did her best to increase the exertion by twenty percent.

“Fantastic, Annie. Fantastic. Take a breath and on the next one, give it everything you got. Okay? Everything you’ve got.”

Annie felt like she’d already _given_ everything she had, but that didn’t stop her from redoubling her grip both on the plastic sideboard of the bed or Kerry’s hand and taking her deepest breath yet. 

As the longest and loudest grunt she’d given yet escaped from deep in her chest, she could hear Roth telling her to keep going, to hold it through to the end. Her rapidly tiring body was already growing exhausted at the very thought of it, but she nevertheless forced herself to keep going. And then, in a moment she nor Kerry would ever forget, they heard the wail of a newborn fill the room. 

“And number one is out. And it’s a girl.” Roth announced as he clipped the umbilical cord and lifted the baby up to show them both. “Who is sure to pass the APGAR for resps.”

Neither Annie nor Kerry doubted that as the baby cried out loudly with her brand-new lungs. And from what they could see before the nurses whisked the baby girl away to get her cleaned up and checked, she was a healthy pinkish-red and shook her little fists and feet as she cried like any healthy newborn should. 

“Oh, Annie.” Kerry felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she kissed Annie’s forehead. “You did it.”

“And I’ve gotta do it again,” Annie said tiredly (though she was still smiling broadly). She looked down at Roth. “How long until number two?”

“Could be anywhere from a couple minutes to a couple hours,” Roth replied. “But by the looks of it, I’d say probably ten to fifteen minutes or so. Just long enough to catch your breath.”

Annie nodded as she reclined back in the bed. Kerry brushed hair off her sweaty forehead and kissed it again as one of the nurses brought back baby number one, cleaned off and wrapped up in a blanket. 

When Kerry noticed her, she stepped back so that the nurse could hand the baby to Annie, who immediately burst into tears. 

“Everything looks good,” the nurse informed them. “APGAR is good. Eyes, ears, and hips all fine. Six pounds, five ounces, 19.3 inches.”

But neither Annie nor Kerry were paying her any attention. They were too busy gazing in teary awe at the baby in Annie’s arms. 

“Hi, honey,” Annie whispered in between watery breaths as she stroked the baby’s cheek. “Hi, baby girl.”

The baby calmed at her touch and opened her big brown eyes, which served to start the crying all over again. 

Annie gently lifted her to kiss her on the head, chuckling about the tears left behind on the baby’s little pink and blue hat (and forehead). But as she went to wipe them away, she felt another jolt inside her. 

“Take her, take her,” she instructed quickly, lifting the baby to Kerry. 

Kerry took the infant from her and then almost immediately handed it off as Annie let out a stifled groan. She re-took Annie’s hand as Roth laid a hand on Annie’s stomach. 

“You feeling number two?” he asked, glancing at Annie over the sheet. 

Annie could only nod as she was too busy focusing on her breathing. 

“Yeah. I think they’re good and ready,” he remarked. “Are you?”

Annie exhaled deeply, but nodded again, nonetheless.

“Alright. Just like last time. Start at 50%.”

Annie inhaled deeply as the contraction began. As it grew, she pushed again, letting out another loud, guttural grunt. 

“Excellent again,” Roth said encouragingly. “Give it all you got on this next one, okay? Straight to 100%.”

“Already?”

“Yep. Number two’s almost always easier since number one just paved the way.”

Annie began to nod as the next contraction started. And, with another deep breath and another loud groan, she was rewarded with another loud newborn cry. 

“Another girl,” Roth announced happily. “With lungs on her like her sister.”

Annie collapsed back against the bed once more, smiling broadly as new happy tears grew in her eyes. 

“Can I hold number one again?” she asked, chuckling slightly as the nurses began checking number two. “Since her sister so rudely interrupted us.”

Kerry nodded, but was too overwhelmed with her own tears of happiness to immediately respond. Instead, one of the other nurses picked up number one out of her bassinet and handed her to Annie. 

“Hi, honey,” Annie murmured again as the baby was settled into her arms once more. “Sorry about that. Your sister demanded my attention there for a second. Which I hope doesn’t happen to you forever.”

The baby let out a little squeak like she was agreeing with her, which made Annie tear up again. 

“Dr. Weaver?” Roth said quietly from behind where the new grandmother stood. “Would you like to hold number two?”

The offer threatened to overwhelm Kerry with sobs once again, but she forced herself to maintain her composure so she could take the younger of the two babies in her arms. But as soon as she looked down at the baby in her arms, thinking of all of her own babies who were no longer babies, she couldn’t fight the emotion back. 

“Oh, _Annie._ Oh, Annie, they’re beautiful,” she said in a low whisper. “They look just like you.”

Annie looked up at her, her cheeks wet but her smile wide. 

“Did you pick out names for them?”

Annie nodded and looked back down at the baby in her arms. 

“Miriam Meredith,” she said, nodding down before glancing at the bundle of joy in Kerry’s arms. “And Mildred Elisheva.”

At the sound of her mother’s name, Kerry lost any control over her tears she had left (which admittedly, was not much).

“Miri and Millie,” Annie finished. “Because they had to have trouble names of some kind.”

Kerry let out a watery chuckle as she gently pulled the blanket back from little Millie’s face. At the sight of little tufts of auburn hair peeking out from under her hat and the same big soulful eyes of her sister and her mother, she felt like baby Annie was looking up at her. 

“Hi, Millie,” she whispered to the baby. “Hi, baby girl.”

“Grandma,” Annie said as she looked up at her mother. 

Kerry glanced up at her. When their eyes met, she nodded, a small smile on her face. 

“You named her after Grandma.”

Annie gave a small shrug of acknowledgement before looking at her again and whispering, “You’re Grandma now.”

Kerry bit her lip hard to keep herself from sobbing onto her newborn granddaughter, which was made all the harder as she thought of holding Charlie for the first time and feeling her mother’s hand on her shoulder, even though she was no longer there. 

That had been almost twenty-one years ago, and yet the memory of that feeling, of her mother’s guiding hand in her life even when she was no longer there to guide her, felt as real as if it had happened only a moment ago. She could just imagine her mother now, standing beside her, gazing down on the new baby that bore her name. 

“Can we switch?” 

It took a moment for Kerry to pull herself out of her thoughts and back to the present. When she did, she nodded quickly and then laid baby Millie on Annie’s outstretched legs for a moment so she could take baby Miri from her. Once Miri was safe in her Grandma’s arms, Annie carefully picked Millie up and settled her into the crook of her arm.

“Hi, Millie,” she murmured as she kissed this baby’s forehead as well. “Are you going to be the center of attention, huh? Always trying to upstage your sister?” 

Millie gave a little squeak of her own and wriggled in her blanket, as if offended her mother would suggest such a thing (or quite possibly wriggling in pride that her mother had picked up on it so soon).

Annie murmured to her, stroking her cheek for a moment as Kerry did the same to Miri. 

“Annie?”

Annie glanced up at the sound of her name to see Dr. Roth patiently waiting nearby.

“Yeah?”

“I want to check on to see if the placenta has been delivered, and if not, how that’s coming,” he explained as he made for the spot at the end of the bed. “And, then, perhaps we could start skin-to-skin?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

Kerry laid Miri in her bassinet so she could take Millie from Annie. 

As soon as Annie pulled her legs up and Roth went to do his examination, she delivered the placenta. He instructed for that to be cleared away and then double checked that everything was in order otherwise. Once certain it was all fine, he gave a couple instructions on how best to do ‘kangaroo care’ through skin contact with the newborns before excusing himself once more. 

Annie pulled down the top of her hospital gown as Kerry carefully unwrapped Miri from her blanket and laid her on Annie’s chest before repeating the gesture with Millie.

The sensation of her daughters’ skin against hers was enough to bring tears to Annie’s eyes again (and, resultantly, Kerry’s). 

“When I was really little, I was always worried that my birthday was going to fall on Tisha B’Av, which is a _sad_ Jewish holiday. And it never did, but I remember thinking that, when I had a baby, I wanted it to be born on a _happy_ Jewish holiday,” Annie said softly as she gently stroked Miri’s head with her finger. “But when I got older, I realized that no matter what day they were born on, it would be a happy Jewish holiday in my book. And then I got Hanukkah babies.”

Kerry leaned over the side of the bed and kissed Annie on the head before whispering, “Worthy of a celebration of miracles.”

She kissed Annie again before gently setting her hand over Annie’s, which gently rested on Millie’s back. 

“My baby girl’s got baby girls,” she thought aloud as her eyes grew wet once again. “And that reminds me: I’ve got a bunch of Etsy purchases I’m now allowed to make. And an Amazon wishlist, too.”

“For real?” Annie asked, her brow rising. 

“I didn’t buy anything,” Kerry said, raising her eyes defensively as she straightened up. “But you never said I couldn’t look.”

Annie rolled her eyes but nevertheless chuckled as she glanced down at her baby girls again. Then, she remembered something.

“I just remembered something.” She nodded towards the duffel bag on the floor. “Will you get them both a pair of socks out of the bag? There should be two bags. Get one of each.”

“One _sock_ out of each or one _pair_ out of each?”

“One _pair_ out of each,” Annie replied. “Because, as you can see, there’s a theme to the clothes. See how they’re divided up? That’s so I can color-code the children.”

“So you can color code the children?” Kerry repeated with a chuckle.

“Yes,” Annie replied sincerely. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. I knew that there was a possibility they would be identical and a high possibility that they’d be squishy-looking, and possibly even identically squishy-looking. So, until they have personalities, one of them wears warm colors and one of them wears cool colors.”

“And your husband agreed to this?” Kerry asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed the two pairs of baby socks to Annie. 

“He laughed at me, but he didn’t technically say no.”

Kerry smiled. 

“Well, then, Millie needs to wear the warm colors.”

“Because Grandma’s favorite color was orange?” Annie asked as she put the pair of purple socks onto Miri’s tiny little feet.

Kerry gave a small smile as she turned back to the duffel bag. 

“How much do you have for them?”

“About five outfits each to start off, including the one for them to go home in. Ethan has instructions to purchase _our_ Amazon wish list now that they’re here,” she said with a smile. “You can look at it if you want. They’re in the blue package.”

Kerry found the package and tore it open to reveal two newborn outfits - a onesie, hat, and socks- in both orange and blue. She held up the orange onesie to see a large lower-case “m” across the chest. 

“Hang on...” she began as she glanced at the other onesie. “Are these supposed to be-”

“m&ms. Because they’re my little m&ms,” Annie finished cheerfully. “I saw them online the day after Ethan and I decided on the names. I can’t really say I bought them out of any other necessity than I saw them and I needed them.”

Kerry let out an automatic, “Awww,” as she tucked the outfits back in the bag and pulled her chair back up to the bed. 

“Does that mean it’s safe to assume their names would have started with an ‘m’ if they were boys too?” At Annie’s nod, Kerry added, “And would it be safe to assume one of their names would be Michael?”

“How did you know?” Annie asked, feigning surprise. Then, she smiled. “Yep. Michael and Malachi. Mikey and Malley. And it would have been Michael and Mildred if it was one and one.”

Kerry smiled.

“Where did you get Miriam?” she asked curiously. 

“It’s Moses’ sister,” Annie replied simply. “And Ethan’s grandmother.”

Kerry looked at her lovingly for a moment before her eyes fell back to her new granddaughters lying calmly on Annie’s chest. She watched them for a moment before her own chest began to tighten and she looked back at Annie. 

“There is one gift I have for you,” she said in a voice low, but full of emotion. “And in my defense, I didn’t buy it. And it’s not technically from me.”

Annie’s brow knitted for a moment as Kerry rose from her chair and made for her purse. And, when Annie saw the plain white envelope she pulled out of it, she felt her chest tighten with emotion, too.

“I take it you know what this is,” Kerry said quietly as she sat back down.

Annie nodded. 

“Will you read it to me?”

Kerry nodded and preemptively pulled several tissues from the box to set on her lap. But no sooner than she had laid eyes on the handwriting of the letter did she feel the sobs in her chest. 

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Kerry steadied herself and began with a shaky, _“‘My beloved Annalise.”_

_“‘As I sit down to write this letter for you to read many, many years from now, I can hear you running up and down the hallway. And while it is strange to imagine my little Annie all grown up and ready to welcome a child of her own into the world, I know you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. I know this because I know how beautiful you are as I write this and I remember watching your Momma do the same when she was the age you are now._

_“There are so many things I wish I would have known before I became a mother, and I know there were many things your Momma wished she’d known too. You’ll discover those things for yourself soon enough, but I am comforted to know that, when you do, you are not short on wonderful role models to guide you through it._

_“But today is not the time for worry or doubt. Today is a time for celebration and joy and wonder. Today is for excitement and for basking in the wonder of new life. And as they grow and learn how many people love them and how much, please make sure…’”_

When Kerry’s words cut off, Annie looked from her girls to her Momma. 

Kerry’s hand was clamped across her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as she silently sobbed. Whether in happiness, in grief, or likely in a combination of both, neither she knew nor Annie knew for sure. But regardless, she took a long moment to pull herself together enough to finish reading. 

_“‘Please make sure they know…’”_ Kerry took a shaky breath. _“‘Please make sure they know how much their Great Grandma and Grandpa love them, too._

 _“May you and your partner and the new addition_ \- additions - _to your family be blessed with love and joy and health today and forever more. Love, Grandma.”_

Kerry set the letter aside and reached for the tissues on her lap. She’d just blown her nose when she heard Annie gasp. 

“What? What is it?” she asked quickly, ready to shoot out of her chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Look,” Annie said softly. “Look.”

Kerry stood up and peered down at the babies. 

They both lay on their stomachs with their heads turned in towards each other, keeping their airways open and letting them look at each other. But that was not what made Annie gasp. 

Miri (in her purple socks) had reached her little hand out towards her sister. Millie (in her yellow socks) had reached out in response, making it look like they were holding hands. 

Annie looked from them up to her Momma, her eyes full of tears and awe, the only thing she could manage was a tiny, _“Sisters.”_

Kerry nodded and stroked Annie’s hair, before whispering back, _“And their Momma.”_

As the night drew on, the sisters and their Momma took turns sleeping in between visits from Dr. Roth and the nurses. The lactation specialist visited not long after the reading of Mildred’s letter, and guided Annie through breastfeeding, impressively maintaining a calming demeanor as the babies’ Grandma a.k.a. her boss’ boss’ boss paid close attention from nearby. 

Kerry couldn’t sleep, though, nor did she want to. All she wanted to do was hold her new grandbabies in her arms and tell them how beautiful they were and how much their Grandma loved them, just the way her mother had to Annie on the day she was born.

She remembered to call down to the ER around midnight, but, as Susan was busy boarding thirteen COVID-positive patients that should have been up in the ICU, she just left a message that everything had gone well and to come up if she could. 

She must have fallen asleep at some point while rocking Miri as she woke up to the baby girl crying in hunger around three a.m. (Luckily, her sister had woken up not too long before and was just finishing her own mid-night meal.)

She swapped Miri for Millie and then settled back in the rocking chair, resolved not to fall asleep again. But the rhythmic motion of the rocking chair back and forth along with the comfort of her granddaughter in her arms, it wasn’t long before they were both lulled back to sleep again.

This time, they slept until about six a.m. But this time, they were not woken up by the cries of a hungry baby, but rather a visitor to their room. 

And, to Annie’s pleasant surprise - and immense confusion - it was not the man who’d been paying them visits throughout the night, but one even more welcome. 

“Ethan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! And, as promised, we finally have babies and lots and lots of tears. As I was writing this, I thought of a meme that has been floating around tumblr lately about writing happy scenes vs sad scenes and how much more excited writers get writing the sad scenes. I'll admit, writing sad scenes _does_ give me great pleasure, but really, that applies broadly to any intensely emotional scene. Happy, sad, angry - I love it all and I _love_ making myself (and hopefully most of you) cry over it. That is one of my greatest pleasures in life. (And as I've been reminded a lot lately, I've been due a really good cry.)
> 
> I hope you are all doing well and are enjoying this so far. I've mentioned before that this makes me want to write a modern day _ER_ fic (aka NBC should put me in charge of an _ER_ reboot), so here's afun fact of how I would view this as part of an episode:
> 
> First off, the episode would be "Mothers and Daughters" as both an homage to the s4e7 episode "Fathers and Sons" and also because of the two character storylines that would climax in this episode. The first storyline, of course, is Annie giving birth. The other storyline would involve ER Chief Tonya Duncan-Taylor (played by Octavia Spencer) who has been taking care of her fifteen-year-old trans neice Sayza. Sayza ran away from Tonya's sister's house because the sister and her husband refused to allow Sayza to transition and insisted on misgendering her and only referring to her by her dead name. This episode, which would be the mid-season finale, would result in Tonya being awarded full custody of Sayza and their last scene in it would be Tonya offering to take her downstairs at the court house to legally get her name changed. 
> 
> I will say that this fic will _not_ end the way I would imagine an _ER_ episode to, which would be Annie not waking up when Kerry prodded her and then revealing she was hemorraghing or something. As great of TV as that might make, I can't do that to Annie. So, thought I still think the next chapter will make you cry, it would be more happy tears, not holy-shit-how-could-they-do-that-to-her-I-can't-take-this tears. 
> 
> If you can't tell, I'm off this week for the holiday, and, given the general unpleasantness, not doing much else other than writing. But it's really nice to do, so I hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Until next time.


	4. Part Four: Afterbirth

“Ethan?”Annie asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

Ethan took his mask off, grinning broadly, and immediately made for Annie on the bed. 

“I GOT A CALL THAT-”

“Ethan. _ETHAN-”_ Annie said loudly, waving quickly for his attention.

Ethan didn’t stop for the wave, but he did at the sight of his name sign, or the sign for ‘colorful’ signed twice and ending in the sign for ‘e’ (which he earned for always insisting that his hearing aids be brightly colored instead of peach to match his skin).

“You’re being very loud,” Annie said clearly, signing the statement as she said it (and then adding a gesture towards the sleeping babies next to her for good measure).

Ethan’s eyes grew wide for a moment before he nodded quickly. He rubbed a fist in a circle on his chest, meaning ‘sorry’ before pulling his hearing aids out of his coat pocket, turning them on, and then slipping them into his ears. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized as he took a seat next to Annie on the bed. “I remembered to grab them before I left but obviously forgot to do anything else.”

Before Annie could say anything, he leaned forward to kiss her. 

“What are you doing here?” Annie repeated once he pulled away.

“I got a call that there was some kind of mistake? Something about the fact that, since your mom works here, she doesn’t _technically_ count as a visitor?” he explained with an uncertain shrug as he glanced between Annie and Kerry. “I-I don’t know. They just said I could come and I came.”

Annie glanced towards Kerry. Even from where she sat rocking Millie, Kerry could see Annie tearing up again. 

“Did you do this?” Annie asked in a tiny voice. 

Kerry simply shrugged, patting the baby held against her shoulder gently as she rocked back and forth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But at the sight of the tiny smirk curling Kerry’s lips, Annie smiled and mouthed, _“Thank you.”_

“Is this them?” Ethan asked, looking from where Miri lay in her bassinet to where Millie rested against her Grandma’s shoulder. 

“No, Ethan,” Annie replied, rolling her eyes. “We’re boarding someone else’s kids until ours come back.”

Ethan ignored the jibe, or perhaps didn’t even notice, as he was too busy staring in awe at little Miri and then to Millie when Kerry settled her back into her own bassinet. Annie couldn’t blame him, though. The wonder on his face said it all. 

“Wow,” he whispered as he looked between the girls. “Just… wow.”

As Kerry stepped back, she watched as Annie carefully shifted herself forward a bit in the bed so she could lean against Ethan as he gazed at his newborn daughters.

“Would you like to hold one?” Annie asked quietly, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him. “Because you can. In fact, I encourage it.”

“In a second, in a second,” Ethan replied, raising a hand slightly. “I want to greet them properly first.”

“Okay. I can’t promise they’ll be watching you,” Annie warned playfully as Ethan carefully turned the bassinets towards him. “Or will even have their eyes open.”

“That’s okay.”

Once he’d turned the girls towards him, he took another moment to admire them as Annie ran a gentle hand up and down his back. Then, he drew in a deep breath only to pause and frown.

“That one’s Miriam, right?” he said, pointing at the baby to their right. “Because in the picture you sent me, she had purple socks on.”

“Yes. That’s Miriam,” Annie said, nodding. “See? I _told_ you that color-coding would be helpful.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and then took another steadying breath. 

Kerry watched from near the door as he looked at Miri first and signed ‘name’ before fingerspelling M-I-R-I-A-M. He then repeated the sign for ‘name’ to Millie before fingerspelling M-I-L-D-R-E-D.

With another deep breath, he placed his hand on his chest and then pointed to both of the baby girls in front of him. Then, he opened his hand again and touched his thumb to his forehead.

Doing so nearly overwhelmed him with emotion, which made sense to both women watching given what he’d just said: _Hi, girls. I’m your Daddy._

Annie hugged him from behind as he forced himself to take another breath. He then pointed to the babies again and swept a hand in front of his face in a sort of catching motion, but signed bigger to have more emphasis. Then, he made his hand into a ‘y’ shape and moved it side to side a few times before opening his hand again and touching his thumb to his chin. 

_You two are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Just like your Momma._

Ethan glanced up at Annie, who was smiling at him lovingly. They kissed again before Ethan looked back down at the girls. Annie, though, looked up at Kerry.

When they made eye contact, Annie mouthed, _“I love you,”_ to which Kerry mouthed back, _“I love you, too.”_

Millie let out a squeaking cry as Kerry put her mask on. Annie scooped her up, all the while instructing Ethan how to hold her properly. 

When they gently settled her into Ethan’s arms, Millie stopped squeaking. Annie remarked that she probably just wanted Daddy to hold her first and that she was likely to be the center of attention. And, as Kerry stepped out into the hall, she heard Ethan reply, “Oh, so she’s the Suzie.”

Chuckling to herself, Kerry pulled the door shut behind her to give the little family their privacy. As she did so, she heard a familiar (and comforting) voice call out to her from down the hall. 

Susan was making her way towards her. She had on a pair of fresh scrubs and a surgical mask, like most other County physicians on duty, but her hair was slightly wet, suggesting she’d just showered. 

“Just getting off?” Kerry asked as Susan drew even with her. 

“If by ‘getting off,’ you mean ‘running away,’ then yes,” Susan replied with a sigh. “I was off at five, but I told them I’d wait until we’d moved a couple of the ICU patients out. We got from thirteen down to ten, so I seized my opportunity.”

“A few ICU beds opened up?” Kerry asked with hesitant hopefulness.

“Yes, but not for good reasons.”

Kerry inhaled deeply and shook her head. 

“But don’t worry about that,” Susan said (though she was unsure which of them she was talking to). “Can I go in?”

“In a second. Ethan just got here, so I’m giving them a chance to be together as a family.”

“Ethan’s here?” Susan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought he couldn’t come?”

Kerry gave a small shrug of (feigned) innocence.

“I _may_ have pulled a few strings in the middle of the night,” she said slowly. “And called in a few decades worth of favors.”

Susan chuckled.

“You know, if you start making exceptions now, soon you’re going to be making exceptions for everybody,” she stated, her brow rising. 

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Kerry replied. “As not every person who comes up here is going to be having my grandbabies.”

Susan grinned broadly behind her mask. 

“You have _grandbabies,”_ she said in an amazed whisper. 

The excitement in her voice made Kerry’s heart flutter so much that she had to fight the urge to pull Susan into her arms right then and there. But she didn’t, instead channeling it into her words.

“I have grandbabies,” she repeated softly. “Miriam and Mildred. Miri and Millie.”

“Because they’re gonna have to have trouble names,” Susan concluded, her smile evident in her voice.

“Of course,” Kerry said with a small shrug of acknowledgement. “You know, we’re going to have to figure out what to call _you._ Because Annie has already told me that _I_ get to be Grandma. So, we have to figure out a name for you.”

Susan seemed to consider it for a moment before she shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it, but I think I want them to pick it out,” she said, nodding towards the door.

“Because you want to be Banana,” Kerry said, half-asking, half-accusing. 

“It’s not that that is Elizabeth’s grandma name, it’s that little Mark picked that out specifically for her,” Susan replied (defensively). “And, _yes,_ perhaps learning that that is what he calls her is one of the best things to come out of 2020, but, really, it’s about the love behind it.”

Kerry rolled her eyes again, but chuckled, nonetheless.

“Well, we’ll have to figure out something to call you in the meantime,” Kerry informed her. “How about Granny?”

“Oh _God_ no.”

“Gran-Gran?”

“Mmm-mmm.”

Kerry, thoroughly enjoying watching Susan squirm, thought for a moment before she lit up with an idea. 

“How about Grammy?” she offered in a surprisingly serious tone. “I’m Grandma, you’re Grammy. Like I’m Momma, you’re Mommy.”

Susan considered the name for a moment and then shrugged in concession.

“Alright, fine. That one’s not _terrible,”_ she said with a sigh. Then, she raised a finger at Kerry. “But, when it comes down to it, it’s not up to us. It’s not even up to Annie. It’s up to them.”

Kerry was about to reply when she saw a twinkle in Susan’s eye. 

“What?”

“I’m just thinking about your mom. And how excited and proud she’d be that you get to be Grandma now.”

The emotion in Kerry’s chest immediately began to rise again, but instead of breaking down again, she just rolled her eyes. 

_“Susan,”_ she groaned. “I’ve already cried enough tonight.”

Susan just chuckled as Kerry pulled a(nother) tissue out of her pocket to dab at her eyes. But as Kerry stuffed it back into her pocket for future use, Susan could see the smile in her eyes. 

“She’d be excited that you get to do it with me.”

Susan’s own grin broadened as Kerry’s did. But this one didn’t last long before it faded from her eyes. 

When Susan raised her brow in question, Kerry let out a sigh of her own.

“I should call Michael.”

“Does he not know yet?” Susan asked in concern. 

“Oh, no. He knows. Annie and I have been sending everyone pictures,” Kerry assured her quickly. Then, she closed her eyes in disappointment. “He should be here. He and Adam and Ethan’s parents and the girls. Waiting their turn to see her not because there’s a virus, but because they don’t want to overwhelm the new parents.”

Susan nodded. There were so many thoughts and assurances she could offer, but when it came down to it, there was really only one succinct way to express their feelings. 

“Fuck 2020.”

“Fuck 2020,” Kerry repeated sincerely. “That’s the _real_ message I want to give for those stupid _CGH Cares_ videos they make me do for Facebook. Masks and distancing and the year-end appeal are all good, sure, but that’s the real Message from the Chief: Fuck 2020 and fuck any of you who have helped make 2020 worse.”

“And then tweet it directly at the President, right?” Susan added. 

“Yes. Exactly.”

But even with the jokes, it was clear to both of them just how much the weight of 2020 weighed on them. 

“Well, there’s only like twelve days left of 2020,” Susan thought aloud. “And only about a month until he’s not the President anymore.”

“Thank fucking God.”

“Thank fucking God.”

The conspicuous - but necessary - absence of family coming to visit was not only on Kerry’s mind. Even with two newborns requiring her attention, Annie had been thinking about it almost constantly as well.

And as they slowly turned the epidural off (“You decided to do it?” “If God still meant the pain as a punishment, then epidurals never would have been discovered.”) and she and Ethan changed the m&ms into their m&m onesies to go home, the ache of missing her family grew stronger in Annie’s chest. 

It wasn’t a new ache, but rather just had a new edge to it. She’d been aching to see her fathers and Suzie and even Ethan’s parents for months on end. But the presence of two new little miracles that should be meeting them made the ache so much stronger. And as Annie recognized the street Ethan turned as he drove them back to Kerry and Susan’s house, she felt the ache throb it’s hardest. 

“Pull over, pull over.”

“What? Why?” Ethan asked quickly. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, it’s just-” Annie cut herself off as she went for her phone. “Just…. Just pull over. Pull into the driveway.”

“Into whose driveway?”

“Into my dads’ driveway!” Annie said, gesturing towards the houses on the right side of the road. “I’ll… I’ll call them and have them come out. They can…. They can look at them through the window.”

“Annie,” Ethan said, though he parked in front of a house a few down from Michael and Adam’s. “We should get you guys home.”

“But they need to see them,” Annie said firmly as emotion quickly rose in her chest. “It’ll… It’ll just be for a second.”

_“Annie.”_

The tenderness with which Ethan said her name only served to hasten the tears now rolling down her cheeks. 

“How old are they going to be?” she all but whispered as she looked at the house a few doors down. “How old are they going to be before they get to hold them?”

“Your dads?”

 _“The girls,”_ Annie hissed. “Three months? Six months? Is it going to be next Hanukkah before we get to be together again?”

Ethan started to shake his head, but then stopped himself and instead shrugged. 

“I don’t know. Hopefully not, but who’s to say?” 

Though there was something comforting in him not making promises he couldn’t keep, it still wasn’t as reassuring as he’d intended it to be.

“Let’s do it tomorrow, okay? After you’ve gotten some rest,” he suggested softly. “ Because you need to rest and _they_ need to rest. And they’ve never even been in a house before.”

“It’s not even our house.”

Ethan could tell that Annie’s morose tone was a symptom of sadness, as she’d just been saying a few days prior that she was looking forward to having more hands around to help out. But rather than point this out (even to make her feel better), he took her hand and squeezed it. 

“Well, there’s people at the house who haven’t gotten to meet her yet,” he said with a small smile. “And some babies who are going to need to eat soon. And their Momma, who needs to take a shower and maybe eat some lunch.”

“Is that your way of trying to tell me that I smell?” 

There was still a part of Ethan (the nervous thirteen-year-old part) that tensed at the joke, but most of him (the thirty-year-old loving husband part) just smiled and squeezed her hand again. 

Annie squeezed it back and then inhaled deeply as she nodded. 

Ethan squeezed her hand once more and then let go so he could pull back into traffic and continue around the block to the Weaver-Lewis house. Still, as they passed the Klein-Levin house, he could hear Annie sigh at the sight of the electric menorah in the front window.

Within minutes, he had pulled into the driveway. Annie, who was _feeling_ the lack of anesthesia, waited until he’d rounded around the car and offered her a hand to stand up before climbing out. And, without hesitation, as soon as she’d threaded her arms through her crutches, she shifted as much weight as she could onto her arms. 

“Do you want me to get one?” she asked as Ethan unlocked one of the carseats from its base and set it on the ground. 

“Nah. I can get them,” he replied as he rounded the car again. 

Normally, Annie would have pressed the matter - especially upon hearing him grunt as he hoisted both car seats up - but this once, she was rather relieved he said no. 

“They’re pretty heavy,” he said as they started for the front door. 

“Heavy? They weigh like six and a half pounds each,” Annie said, frowning as he passed her. “That’s like nothing.”

“Well of course you’d think that,” Ethan said, setting Millie (her orange m&m onesie hidden under a blanket) down as he reached for his keys. “You’re supporting your entire weight on your arms as we speak.”

Annie glanced down and then back up at him before shrugging in acknowledgement. 

“Fair enough.”

Ethan turned the keys in the door and then pushed it open before picking Millie back up. 

“Your mom is much stronger than I am,” he said to the babies as he stepped back to let Annie inside. “If you need any jars opened, go to her first.”

Annie chuckled as she stepped inside. She groaned slightly at the step, which, coupled with the front stairs up to the porch, were unusually exhausting.

She took a few steps to the side so Ethan could come in just as Charlie appeared in the foyer. 

“Babies?” she said excitedly, craning her neck to peer into the carseats. 

But before Annie could confirm, “Yes, babies,” there was a firm _“Charlie,”_ from near the kitchen. 

“Oh, right,” Charlie said, shaking her head quickly. “I was instructed to give you these.”

She held out a surgical mask to both of them. 

“In the house?” Annie asked, frowning.

“Haven’t you been in the hospital for two days?” 

“Not _that_ part of the hospital,” Annie replied as she nevertheless took the offered mask and put it on. 

Ethan set down both car seats this time so he could put on his own mask, which was beneficial as Charlie then ushered them into the bathroom just off the foyer to wash their hands. 

When both Annie and Ethan had washed their hands (the newborns exempt from doing so due to age), Charlie donned her own mask again and cheerfully led them further into the house. 

On the far wall of the living room was a large sign painted with m&ms and big loopy words reading _Welcome home!_ But not that nor the spread of colorful, individually-wrapped snacks on the counter in the kitchen caught Annie’s eye at first. That honor went to something else. Something that made Annie immediately burst into tears as she was greeted with a, “Hiya, kiddo.”

Michael and Adam, both in surgical masks overtop of KN95s, were standing in the living room. 

Annie immediately rushed towards them as fast as her body would allow. She only remembered the virus and the fact she’d just given birth a moment before she leapt into Michael’s arms. 

Instead, she skidded to a halt a few feet in front of him and asked, in a tiny voice, “Can I hug you?”

Michael nodded, his teary eyes crinkling as he smiled behind his mask(s). 

Annie didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around him and start sobbing into his shoulder. Michael just squeezed her hard in return, his own tears dampening her sweater as he hugged his not-so-little-girl for the first time in months. 

After a moment that felt like it went on forever, Annie finally released him and turned for her other dad. He was a few feet away from even Michael, which made sense given he was at the highest risk of anyone in the room.

“Can I hug you, too?” Annie asked hesitantly. “It’s okay if I can’t.”

But Adam just smiled behind his mask(s) too.

“Of course. But just you,” he said with a wink before Annie threw her arms around him, too. 

She took another moment to cry into his shoulder before releasing him and stepping back. 

“I thought… I thought you-you couldn’t make exceptions,” Annie asked, looking back and forth between them. 

“This is an exception worth making,” Michael said with another smile crinkling his kind eyes. 

Annie felt fresh tears begin to roll down her cheeks. Then, she glanced at the others in the room.

Kerry and Susan were standing in the kitchen, Susan’s arm wrapped around Kerry’s waist as they watched Annie reunite with her dads. Charlie was nearby, bouncing up and down on her toes in excitement. But the sight of them (or the sight of them crying along with her) was not as surprising as the other guests, who were waiting on the far side of the dining room table. 

Suzie was standing next to her fiancé Sam, a young half-Black, half-Filipino man, who was seated on his walker. 

Like Ethan had had a crush on Annie since they were young, Sam had famously been in love with Suzie since she’d knocked out a bully on his behalf circa 2002. It had earned him both Suzie’s endless teasing and the best proposal/wedding joke ever: “I always knew you were a knock-out.”

Sam waved pleasantly as Annie approached them, but Suzie waited until Annie was close enough to see her properly before rolling her eyes dramatically.

 _“Ewwwwww,”_ she groaned as Annie hugged her tight. “Gross.”

“You told me you missed me,” Annie said as Suzie made retching noises. 

“And I regret telling you that,” Suzie said as Annie straightened up. “And I can’t even punch you because you just had babies.”

Annie considered pulling her mask down long enough to stick out her tongue, but thought better of it and instead just rolled her eyes. 

She then gave Sam a quick hug before rejoining Ethan in the foyer. Then, she glanced at Kerry, who was looking at her with such pride that she almost started crying all over again. 

“This is…” Annie began before her words caught in her throat. “This is just…”

“Technically illegal,” Charlie finished brightly. “The limit is no more than ten people gathered at once and the m&ms make eleven. So, if anyone asks, we’re counting them both as one half of a whole.”

“Which is probably what’s going to happen to them for the rest of their lives,” Suzie added with a shrug. 

Annie let out a watery chuckle and looked back at Kerry. 

“You’re just breaking all the rules, aren’t you?”

Kerry smiled behind her mask as Annie glanced around again, feeling her heart fill at the sight of so many she loved in one room. But as she was looking at them, she realized they were all looking at her expectantly. 

“So,” Michael said with a nod at the car seats. “Can we _meet_ these m&ms we’ve heard so much about?”

Annie let out an, “Oh, yeah,” before instructing Ethan to put the car seats on the dining room table so everyone could gather around at a distance. 

“Everybody, we’d like you to meet Miriam Meredith and Mildred Elisheva McDaniels-Levin,” she announced. “The newest members of our family.”

There was a spattering of applause (due to number, not enthusiasm) and then a simultaneous stepping away by all parties as they determined who got to go first. 

Michael and Adam were ushered forward first and each scooped one of the babies into their arms. Annie glimpsed for the briefest of moments as Michael looked from the newborn in his arms to Kerry, who gave him the slightest of nods. 

“You know,” Michael said as she looked from Millie up to Annie. “If you were looking for ‘m’ names, you could have gone with Margaret. After Bubbe.”

“It was on the list,” Annie replied, nodding. 

“Maybe for number three then,” he said with a wink.

Annie chuckled and then shrugged. 

“Maybe. But I don’t think there’s going to be a number three,” she informed them. “We wanted two and got two on the first try, so we think this is it.”

“But you never know, Annie,” Charlie chimed in. “I mean, Mommy and Momma thought they were fine with two and then, one day, they looked at you and Suzie and were like, ‘You know what? We could do better.’”

“And then they got _you,”_ Suzie finished. “But at least they tried, right?”

Charlie scoffed loudly and let out a small sound like an injured animal. But she turned to Susan for comfort, she found none. 

“Mmm-mmm. No,” Susan said, shaking her head. “You set yourself up for that one.”

Charlie pouted for a moment before snapping out of it and showing Ethan and Annie the decor she’d made in preparation for their return. 

When Michael and Adam, a.k.a. Zayda and Papa (having decided that it was Adam’s turn to have the English nickname), had had their turn holding both of their new granddaughters, they settled on the couch opposite Annie and Ethan. Kerry took a seat in her chair near them while Susan stayed back near the table as Charlie and Suzie took their turns to meet the m&ms. 

“Look at you two. Aunt Suzie and Aunt Charlie,” Susan said before her brow furrowed. “I almost called you Uncle Charlie.”

“They can call me Uncle Charlie if they want,” Charlie said happily, looking from Millie up to Susan. 

“Instead of Aunt Charlie?”

“They can call me either. Or both. Either way, they’re referring to me,” Charlie said with a slight shrug. “Plus it’ll probably confuse people. Which is _perfect.”_

(As Charlie had informed them the year before that her gender tended to fluctuate between ‘woman’ and ‘eh,’ the revelation didn’t necessarily surprise them so much as it did that she hadn’t settled on the title of ‘Pibling Charlie.’)

“I’m fine with just being Aunt Suzie.” Suzie let out a gasp. “Wait, _no._ I’m Aunt _Susan…_. Oh my God. We’ve come full circle.”

Susan had no sooner nodded in acknowledgement than Suzie’s eyes widened

“Does this mean I finally get to be Big Suzie now?”

“Uh, no.”

“But _Mommy,”_ Suzie whined like someone half her age. “You became Big Suzie when you became an aunt. Now _I’m_ an aunt, so the title should pass on.”

“Maybe if Annie had named one of her daughters after you, I’d say yes. But no,” Susan said, shaking her head. “You are Little Suzie and you will be Little Suzie forever. I will call you that at your wedding. I will call you that to your _children.”_

This time, it was Suzie who considered pulling down her mask to make a face. But instead, she just huffed and carefully handed Miri over to Sam.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Susan said, glancing between her middle daughter and soon-to-be middle son-in-law. “Are you guys having deja vu? Starting to get stuff going again?”

Suzie and Sam exchanged looks. 

“Actually, we think we’re going to move the wedding another year,” Sam informed her as Miri took his finger in her hand. 

“Really?” Susan said, her voice full of disappointment. “I mean… I don’t blame you. But still.”

“That’s just it,” Suzie said as Charlie passed her Millie. “Things aren’t going to be right by May. And with Sam getting ready for residency interviews, it just feels better. Besides, we’re already pretty much married at this point. The wedding is just the formal part.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “We _feel_ married. I mean, we live together, we split the finances, we… should’ve been married seven months ago. We figure we should just wait until we can have the wedding we want.”

“And we’ve already called the venues and they’re still open,” Suzie added. 

“But you’ll have to resend the invitations.”

“Again.”

Sam nodded and made to hand Miri to Susan. Once she’d taken the baby from him, Suzie almost immediately handed him Millie.

“Well, by then, I might not be working anymore,” Susan informed them as she laid Miri back in her car seat.

“Really?” Suzie asked, her brow furrowing as she glanced up.

“Yep. When this pandemic is over, so is my career,” Susan explained. “I think I’ve earned an early retirement, considering I’ve worked the equivalent of 432 ten-hour work days since March. Which is something considering the same time period was only about 270 24-hour days.

“And of course, that’s only assuming we actually get this shit under control by 2022. But regardless, whenever it’s done, I’m done with it.”

“What will you do then?” 

“Become your mother’s trophy wife. As God intended,” Susan replied simply. “And other things too. Like help with your wedding.”

“Or babysit your granddaughters,” Charlie suggested. 

The thought of it made Susan light up behind her mask. She stroked Miri’s little blue-socked foot affectionately, enjoying the way the baby’s toes stretched (in a healthy Babinski reflex). 

“Or babysit my granddaughters,” Susan repeatedly. 

As she moved from stroking Miri’s foot to running a gentle finger up her chunky little leg, she missed the way Suzie and Sam exchanged another look. 

“Yeah. You can babysit our beautiful new nieces,” Suzie said slowly before muttering “...And maybe their cousin.”

Susan froze and glanced up at her. 

“Their _what?”_

Suzie’s sheepish smile was clear even with half of her face hidden. 

“Their cousin.”

“Now _you’re_ pregnant?” 

“Who’s pregnant?” Kerry asked from across the room. 

All four of them looked up at the other group. Michael and Adam, who’d just been getting up to leave, paused where they stood, just as the others sitting with them all turned to look at Suzie and Sam. 

“I don’t know. And if I am, it’s _really_ early. Like _way_ too early to tell any of you,” Suzie said, raising her hands. “And I don’t even know for sure. I haven’t actually been to the doctor yet… but I also haven’t had a period yet either.”

There was a round of excited gasps (and tears from Susan and Kerry), except from Annie, who just rolled her eyes. 

“Dammit, Suzie. You just can’t let me have anything, can you?” she asked loudly, feigning offense. 

“Oh, come _on,_ Annie. You’re the one who can’t let _me_ have anything,” Suzie shot back. “I mean, you already had grandchild number one _and_ grandchild number two.”

Still unable to stick her tongue out at Suzie, Annie instead just flipped her off. This went unnoticed by her mothers, however, as their attention was turned to their middle daughter and middle ~~soon to be~~ son-in-law.

“Well, mazel tov to you both,” Michael said, nodding to Sam and Suzie before turning to Annie. “And to you, kiddo. And you too, Ethan.”

When Annie made to get up, Ethan jumped up from beside her so he and Michael could help her stand up. 

Annie hugged her Daddy for a long moment and then did the same for her Abba. She could have hugged them for the rest of the day and into the night, making up the missed time from this year, but instead she begrudgingly relinquished them to wash their hands and put their coats on. 

Unwilling to go even a few steps without the support of her crutches, Annie picked them up and threaded her arms through them so she could walk her dads out. Kerry joined her at the door as they left, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they watched Michael and Adam climb into their car (parked a few doors down so as not to be noticed).

“Thank you,” Annie whispered as Kerry hugged her close. “For breaking the rules.”

“This was worth breaking them for,” Kerry whispered in reply.

She squeezed Annie tight for a moment before letting go and taking a step back. 

“Before you sit down again, there’s something I think you should do,” she said as Annie turned for the living room. “It’s up to you. If you want to wait, that’s fine. Or if you don’t want to do it altogether, you don’t have to. But if you do…”

“Do what?”

Kerry held something out to her that she’d been hiding behind her back. 

It was an empty picture frame, but Annie knew exactly what it was for. Or, rather, where it went. 

On the wall leading into the living room was a carefully curated collection of family photos. Some were so old that they were in black and white, while others were so new that they weren’t even developed but rather printed on glossy printer paper. 

The original of the series Annie would be continuing had been taken almost sixty years ago, with its second taken twenty-nine years later. A new picture was added almost ten years later, which led to the series moving from Kerry’s bedside table to a place of honor on their photo wall. A place with space for at least three more frames to be added when it was time for the series to continue. 

Which happened to be today.

Annie nodded and soon was standing on the porch with Ethan, Millie and Miri in their arms, as Kerry took a picture of the new parents on the day they brought their children home for the first time. Just the way she had, first with Michael when they brought home Annie, and then again when she and Susan (and Annie and Suzie) brought home Charlie, and just like Mildred and Henry had done when they’d brought her for the first time, so many years ago. 

When the picture taking was complete, she followed Annie and Ethan back inside. But as they continued on towards the living room, Kerry paused near the photo wall to double check the frame was the right size. 

As she did so, she saw a picture of Annie taken on their family trip to the beach in 2019. She was making a peace sign at the camera as her sisters photobombed in the background. 

It was not Annie that caught her eye, nor Suzie and Charlie being goofy in the background (or, in Suzie’s case, possibly drowning; first-hand accounts differ), but rather the tattoo visible on Annie’s thigh. 

It was a Tree of Life with Hebrew words written underneath it in Kerry’s handwriting. The same words that she had written in Annie’s card on her bat mitzvah and that Mildred had said to her on the night she died. 

_You are all my dreams come true._

And she thought about it, she realized it wasn’t true. Well, not _entirely_ true. Because though it accounted for all the dreams up to that point, it didn’t account for the dreams not yet known. 

And, just like miracles, there were always new dreams yet to come. 

Hopefully, she thought as she turned back to the living room, the next year would bring plenty. And even if it didn’t, there was still going to be good to come out of it. Because if even _2020_ could give her something to smile about amidst everything else, any year coming could do so, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There will be even _more_ grandchildren. Well, only one additional grandchild for now. Miri and Millie will get a new little cousin around Annie's birthday... which she will tease Suzie for for the rest of their lives. I will say that that little part was not part of my plan, but as I was talking through dialogue, it came up and I couldn't resist. (Sidenote: As I am _also_ a twenty-five-year-old who had to postpone their wedding this year but still essentially feels married, I joked that I couldn't show my mom this chapter or else she'll think that _I_ am pregnant. Which I realized could actually happen in the next few years??? What the fuck.)
> 
> As I said, there were tears when writing this chapter, too. But instead of imagining Mildred writing a letter to a grown-up version of her granddaugther that she knew she wouldn't live long enough to meet, instead what got me on this was 1) having Michael and Adam surprise Annie, but more so 2) the question of "Can I hug you?" Because how many times have I - and a lot if not all of you - asked our loved ones at some point this year? And, if we haven't, how many of them are there that we haven't seen in nine months or more that we long to hug? I got the chance to visit my parents last weekend to exchange gifts. We had masks on and kept distanced but we did chance masked hugs and just getting held for that brief moment by my own Momma made me nearly sob. 
> 
> But just as much as this little story is about love and family and being glad that 2020 is almost over, it's also about hope. Hope that there are still good things. Hope that there will be healing. Hope that 2021 is a little bit better than this year, but knowing that, even if it's not, there will be little miracles and dreams not yet known that will become real. There's several things that have happened this year that never would have happened without the pandemic. And though I'd obviously choose "no pandemic" over "the couple good things that have happened this year," I can still enjoy some things, which includes this AU. 
> 
> I can't say this will be the end of the AU, because I know that's not true. Whether it'll be a continuation of the AU in modern-day or more little moments and missing scenes, I don't know. It may be both, because, even though the kids are grown up and having kids of their own, I still have little ideas featuring Mildred or the kids at different ages. And, by your comments and our conversations, I know there's a fair few of you who will be happy for stories from this AUniverse no matter what. And, because it is _also_ one of the best thigns to happen to me this year, you all must look at this gifset of a ["matriarchs" 'trailer' that tumblr user laurainnes made me](https://laurainnes.tumblr.com/post/638223233964015616/m-a-t-r-i-a-r-c-h-s-2020-by-bwayfan25) for the ER Gift Exchange. It is the best thing ever and I love it so much.
> 
> Here's to a better 2021! May you and your loved ones be blessed with health and happiness and miracles you can't even fathom. 


End file.
